Nexus Moons: Book One of the Tales of Graal

by Ron Root

  Rayna broke out laughing. “Nirtae was hardly shamed. In A’ryth, when a man and woman beget a child, the Elders proclaim them husband and wife. She insisted I share the wonderful news with my husband.” She took a deep breath, chewing her lower lip. “So, what is my A’rythian husband thinking? How does Gresham Smithy feel about this news?”

  What he felt was a strange mix of dread and joy. Rayna was a high lord’s daughter, and he’d begat a child on her. Would he suffer her High Lord father’s wrath? Worse, would she? “Rayna, I love you. Were you not highborn, nothing would make me happier than to marry you, raise our child, and grow old together, but you’re nobility, and I’m but a commoner.”

  “Commoner!” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “We’ve been over this foolishness before. The nephew of a Royal Magus who’s been chosen by magic hardly qualifies as common.” She took a calming breath, her eyes once again searching his face. “You still haven’t told me how you feel about this?”

  “Well, when you put it like that…” he said, scratching his chin, his eyes twinkling. Lifting her, he twirled her in circles. “I feel joy! Absolute joy. I can hardly believe it! You and I made a baby! We’re to have family of our own.”

  Setting her down, he dropped to one knee and took her hand. “Nothing in this world would make me happier than to have my A’rythian wife agree to become my Outlander wife too. What say you?”

  “Yes!” she said, clapping her hands, a huge grin painting her face. “And Prior Rigby says he’d be honored to be our Vow Master.”

  “How could he? I only just asked for your hand.”

  Twinkling green eyes bored into his. “A woman does what she must.” She took hold of his hands. “Now, you said you had something to discuss too.”

  “It’s not nearly so grand as yours. Uncle Jarek has asked me to return to the mainland with him; to tutor my arts.” He stood. “What say you to raising our child at the Suzerain Royal Court?”

  Their ceremony took place the day after the Inquisitor left. Rayna looked radiant in her beautiful blue dress bedecked in red jewels. He was wearing a tunic Kendal had loaned him, standing side-by-side with Rayna, facing the parish doors. Kendal, his groom’s aide, stood on her far side. With Yudelle gone, and Caitlyn the only A’rythian present, Rayna chose her as her bride’s maid. She now stood on Gresham’s other side. His uncle, Goodricke, Keep, Zele and Marshal Booker were waiting inside. They’d allowed Sully to attend too.

  Prior Rigby opened the doors and beckoned them in. Arms entwined, they went inside. Flowers lined the parish walls, their fragrance permeating the room. Seeing the couple enter, their witnesses stood.

  Their ceremony was short and included an exchange of woven rings and spoken vows. As soon as it ended, Jarek stepped up beside them, bearing four glasses of wine. He gave one each to Prior Rigby, Rayna and Gresham. Wine was also being offered to their guests.

  Facing their audience, Jarek spoke. “Life is strange. I came to these islands seeking family—someone who shared my blood.” He placed a hand on Gresham’s shoulder. “And praise the gods, I found him.” He turned to Rayna. “And although today that family grows, my visit here has taught me how short-sighted my search was; that the sharing of one’s blood is not nearly as important as the sharing of one’s heart, as those of you gathered here have done with me. I thank each of you present for that life’s lesson.” He raised his glass. “A toast to what family truly is.”

  “Cheers,” Kendal hollered, hoisting his glass.

  Rayna turned to Gresham. “And cheers to you, Gresham Smithy, for sharing your heart with mine. You, Nirtae, and our baby, are all the family I’ll ever need.”

  “And now,” Jarek continued, “Keep has a feast awaiting us at his inn. Let’s move these festivities there, and give this town cause for some much-needed glee.”

  Keep had renamed his inn The Dragon’s Prey, and had mounted one of their skulls above its doorway. Although gruesome, the townspeople loved it. Word of their wedding feast had apparently spread, for the inn was chock full of people when they arrived. The impatient town folk had started the festivities without them. A minstrel was there, wandering about singing and reciting poems, delighting the audience. The room was full of laughter and cheer. His uncle was right—the beleaguered town badly needed this bit of glee.

  Finding an empty table, they were about to sit when Keep rushed over. “Lady, please, this area is for commoners. You’ll find the highborn seating above far more to your liking.” He smiled at Gresham. “As will you, milord,” he added, leading them upstairs. “Please be seated while I fetch you my special wedding tankards.”

  “It seems strange,” Gresham said watching Keep go, “to be at here at The Dragon without Sully being here too.”

  “Yes,” Rayna said. “And to think he’ll be raised by Prior Rigby like you were.”

  Gresham laughed. “The gods preserve us.”

  She gave him a playful shove. “From what Prior Rigby tells me, he can’t be any worse than you were.”

  Keep returned with a jubbe full of ale and two glasses. Seeing them, Rayna frowned. “Those glasses have rounded bottoms. How will we set them down?”

  Gresham laughed. “I think it that’s the general idea.”

  A few ales later a shout caught their attention. “I can’t believe you got married and didn’t invite me to the ceremony.” It had come from the stairwell.

  They turned to see a disheveled crop of shaggy brown hair emerge from the staircase. “Hagley!” Rayna screeched. Ale in hand, she raced to the stairs and leaped upon him, spilling her drink all over him. “You’re alive!”

  Setting her down, he laughed. “That I am!” He looked down at his sopping shirt. “How kind of you to toast my return,” he said, wiping himself off.

  Others joined in, slapping Hagley’s back and ruffling his hair, welcoming him back. Gresham grabbed him by his collar and dragged him to their table. “Now sit and tell us how you’re still alive you sorry bastard, else the cost of the ale is on you.”

  “A bargain that’s hard to refuse.”

  Hagley plopped into a chair, took Gresham’s ale from him, and quaffed it down. “After Hunter flew off with me, he told me I’d be his next meal. But wanting nothing to do with that, I pushed open his jaws and told him I had more important things to do, that he’d just have to settle for munching his prey.”

  Rayna hit his arm. “Don’t tease, tell us what really happened.”

  “I’ll get more ale,” Keep said. “This round be on the house, but only if you hold off the tellin’ of your tale ‘til I return.”

  Hagley grinned. “It’s good to know at least one person appreciates me.”

  Keep returned, handing Hagley a flat-bottomed tankard and refilled the bride and groom’s rounded ones. Hagley took a swig and leaned back in his chair. “Remember my portal?”

  “How could we forget,” Gresham said, “I thought we’d never dry out after passing through it.”

  “What’s important is, as the island’s only available Pervader, I was the sole person capable of closing it, which made me indispensable to Hunter.”

  “You still remembered the spell after hearing it only once?” Gresham asked.

  “Ye of little patience,” he said, taking another sip. “Hunter flew me back to my portal. I spent the better part of the day there watching Hunter’s loathsome creatures wallow through my gate. Once all were through, Hunter…” He raised a finger, “…remember, dragon’s never forget anything—mindspoke Zakarah’s spell into my mind, then went through the gate himself. Before I could forget it, I cast my spell and closed it behind him.”

  Gresham frowned. “If he could use your portal, why didn’t he come through it earlier?”

  “I asked that very question. Like the Crone, Hunter’s Gift is Earth Magic. He draws his aethers from the volcano’s vapors. If he’s away from it long, his arts soon fail him—including his ability to fly. That said, you’d think he could h
ave flown me out of the cursed canyon first before leaving. A bit of an ingrate if you ask me.” He patted his belly. “Climbing up that shaft wasn’t easy for someone my size. I’m not exactly slender if you hadn’t noticed.”

  Gresham laughed. “That was days ago. It doesn’t take that long to get from there to Stalwart, no matter how slow you walk.”

  Hagley took another sip. “It was sundown by the time I’d closed the gate. Not wanting to risk that awful climb in darkness, I spent the night there. The next day I made my way to Broughton.” His smile faded. “Soldiers were there, as were several townspeople. Rotting carcasses lay everywhere. The stench was unbearable. I was conscripted onto a burial team and only managed to leave this morning. Fortunately, I enlisted a ride.” He slapped his shirt. Dust went flying everywhere. “It’s amazing how filthy one can get riding behind a pair of oxen.”

  The feast continued unabated throughout the afternoon, as did Rayna’s ale consumption. Although a pheasant dinner sobered her up somewhat, dusk found her sitting sat at her table, both hands wrapped around her curved ale glass, staring off into nowhere, sporting a silly grin. Gresham doubted she’d ever consumed anywhere near this much ale before. “Perhaps it would be best if we stepped out for some fresh air?”

  She stumbled trying to stand. Fearing she’d fall, he laid their glasses on their sides, picked her up, and carried her down the stairs, spawning hoots, cheers, and raucous comments from the crowd. It was their wedding night, after all. Once outside, he walked her around, letting her breathe in fresh air, hoping to clear her head.

  “When encountering an officer, it’s customary to salute,” someone hollered.

  It was Quinn, bedecked in a Lieutenant’s uniform—he’d been commissioned. “Please Quinn, not this night of all nights. In fact,” he extended his hand, “how about you and I quit squabbling and let bygones be?”

  Ignoring the proffered hand, Quinn turned to Rayna. “Lady, you were the first to see merit in this man.” Turning, he grasped Gresham’s hand. “It took me far longer. Congratulations, Smithy, Rayna is a fine choice. Now,” he said, releasing Gresham’s hand, “if you two will excuse me, rumor has it there’s a feast going on inside.”

  Gresham watched him enter The Dragon, shaking his head. “I swear I’ll never understand that man.”

  “I know something you will understand,” she said, her words slurred. Fresh air had helped, but she was still far from sober.

  “And what is that?” he asked, laughing.

  “Come, I’ll show you,” she said, pulling him by the hand.

  A short walk had them standing in front of an inn reserved for highborns only. “Marshal Booker chartered us a room here. A rather nice wedding gift, don’t you think?” She pulled on his arm. “Come, let’s go see.”

  A call of, “Lady Rayna!” greeted them the instant they stepped inside. It was Robard. Rayna’s nemesis had finally found her. He was short, slight of build, and graying, but contrary to the Rayna’s portrayal of him, his carriage was that of a gentry, not a lackey.

  He walked up to Rayna, bowed, and kissed her hand. “Well met, Lady. You’re as stunning as ever.” Rising, he offered Gresham a frozen smile. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

  “Robard, this is Gresham,” she said, then hiccupped. Robard’s jaw tightened. “Gresham, this is Robard. He does my father’s biddings because the man’s too cowardly to do them himself.”

  Rayna was showing a side of herself he’d not seen before, but Gresham was wise enough to keep quiet. “So… what message does my father bring me this time?”

  Her obvious intoxication had Robard vexed. “Given recent events here, he was most concerned about your wellbeing. He’ll be most relieved to hear you’re safe. He bade me to escort you to Suzerain this time, feeling it time for courtly instruction. Now that I’ve found you, I’ll book ship’s passage first thing on the morrow.”

  “There’s no need, I’m booked already. But I go to Suzerain with my husband, not you.”

  Robard looked stricken. “Husband?”

  “Yes. I’m a married woman now. Oh! And tell my father I’m soon to be a mother, and that if he wishes to see his grandchild, he should send a formal request, to…” she gave Gresham a questioning look.

  “The Royal Academe of Arcane Arts.”

  Robard stood there, jaw agape, at a loss as to how to respond.

  “If I deem his request acceptable, I’ll grant my approval. You may go now,” she said, dismissing him. “Oh, and when you return to St. Pyre, be sure to tell my father that Nirtae, Akaisha’s mother, sends her tidings.” Her eyes absolutely sparkled at Robard’s startled expression.

  “Yes, milady,” he said, bowing and backing away.

  “I can’t tell you how satisfying it was,” she whispered, leading Gresham away. “All my life I’ve wanted to say something like that to my father.” She giggled. “Ah, to see the look on his face when he learns that, not only do I know where he lives, but my mother’s name as well!”

  Maybe Rayna was more clear-headed than he realized.

  “And now, my love,” she said, leading him up the stairs, “the bridal chamber awaits us.”

  Jarek paced, awaiting Hagley’s arrival. They were heading to Portsmouth this morning, and from there, on to Suzerain. Everyone agreed the newlyweds ought to have the carriage to themselves, so the Spymaster, Goodricke and Caitlyn were going by horseback. Jarek was supposed to ride with them, but given his affinity for horses, he’d begged a wagon ride instead.

  Goodricke had convinced Caitlyn that the fastest way to see the Outland was by sea, and was taking her to the Sailor’s Guild to arrange their voyage.

  Jarek had spoken only briefly with Hagley at the feast, choosing to let him revel with his friends. But they’d spoken long enough for him to invite the boy to Suzerain with the promise of that third opportunity to pass his trials. Given Hagley’s recent accomplishments, the trial would be little more than a formality. Regardless of how he tested, after what Jarek had seen of Hagley’s prowess, he’d make sure the lad received his robes.

  Hagley finally arrived. After loading his belongings, Jarek climbed up beside him, chuckling at the purity of leaving Stalwart in the very manner he’d arrived—on a creaky old wagon with Hagley. His visit to the islands had come full circle.

  “Good morning Magus.”

  “And to you.”

  “I’m at a loss as to how to thank you for what you’re doing for me.”

  “Bah! You earned it. That said, we’ll still need to convince the Suzerain Masters you’re worthy of your robes.”

  “I’ll do my best, Sir.”

  “I’ll coach you before you’re tested. In fact, if you’d like, we can do it on our way to Portsmouth. Or…” he broke into a big grin, “since I missed your explanation at the wedding feast, you can tell me how you survived being taken by Hunter. Your choice.”

  Hagley laughed. “As easy a choice as I’ll ever make, Sir.” He snapped the reins, spurring the horses forward. “Do you remember what it was like riding atop that bultúr?”

  “How could I forget? I swear my stomach is still adrift somewhere above the Jacaíoi Mountains.”

  “Well, that pales when compared to being carried in a dragon’s talons.” And that was how Hagley began his tale.

  Table of A’rythian Words and Phrases

  Áit na cumhachta

  Place of Power

  Ama de Cumhacht

  Time of Power (occurs only during a Nexus)

  Beannachtaí draoithe eile

  Greetings fellow wizards

  Beithíoch

  Foul Marsh’s lurker beast

  Capall

  The white horses of A’ryth

  Cara na foraoise, is féidir liom turas tú?

  Friend of the forest, may I ride you?

  Ceangailte

  Joined magic


  Céard atá cearr?

  What’s the matter?

  Cén fáth ar thug tú Outlanders chuig A’ryth?

  Why have you brought Outlanders to A’ryth?

  Déan teagmháil leis le do eochair.

  Please touch it with your key.

  Draíocht

  Magic

  Fáilte abhaile seeker

  Welcome home seeker

  Gan draíocht

  Without magic

  Go raibh maith agat

  Thank you

  Is é Rayna do ghariníon

  Rayna is your granddaughter

  Is iníon Akaisha é Rayna

  Rayna is Akaisha’s daughter

  Ligfimid don draíocht cinneadh a dhéanamh

  We will allow the magic to decide

  Ní féidir linn é sin a dhéanamh

  We cannot do that

  Oíche na Cumhachta

  Night of Power

  Seanmháthair

  Grandmother

  Seanmháthair, is é seo an fear a dúirt mé leat faoi

  Grandmother, this is the man I told you about

  sméar dubh

  The berries of Foul Marsh

  Stop, nó cosnóidh sé tú beagnach

  Halt, or it will cost you dearly

  Tá an tslat seo duitse agat”

  This rod is for you

  Tá sé an-dathúil

  He is very handsome

  Tarraing siar

  The command for a golem to withdraw

  Tost

  Silence

  RON ROOT, author of Nexus Moons, was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. After a decades long career in Information Technology as a programmer, systems analyst and manager, he retired to pursue his three favorite hobbies: tournament bridge, whitewater rafting, and fiction writing.