Moonlight Banishes Shadows

by J. T. Wright

  “Be quiet; the Rat has friends!” He whispered. The Dog nuzzled his gloved hand playfully, then clamped down on his fingers and tugged at them with a growl.

  Pulling his hand free, Trent chastised the Dog, “What is the matter with you? Don’t you know where we are? There’s no time for that!”

  The animal lay on its stomach and covered its nose with both paws, whining, as it stared at Trent with wide eyes. Trent wasn’t falling for the act. Tersa distracted him with a similar look when she was about to steal his food. “You need to go back to your pack. It’s not safe to be alone here!”

  Trent stood back up and took stock of his own injuries. He hadn’t lost any HP, fortunately, or if he had, it had already recovered. His back was sore where he had hit the tree, and his left arm felt strained where it had been wrenched by the Rat tugging at his shield, but there were no cuts.

  He was in one piece and had gained another 100 Experience Points. He was pleased to find Small Blades had gone up a level. One more level in that Skill and a few hundred more XP would allow him to increase Survivalist. Not that he was sure he could wait.

  He had won this clash, but he couldn’t afford to fight this way again. He only had six vials of Liquid Silver left. If he used two per fight, he would only be able to kill three more Wererats. Maybe if he leveled Swordsman or chose a new Class, he could figure out a better way to defeat this Trial.

  He needed to find a new hiding place to consider his options. Preferably, another silver-barked tree. For now, anywhere away from here would do. Trent dropped into Stealth and began to slip through the forest. The Dog, limping and whining, followed him. It had attempted to clean the wound on its leg but stopped when Trent started moving and the cut was bleeding again.

  Snatching the animal up, Trent pressed its muzzle closed. “Where is your pack?” The Dog’s tail wagged in reply to his hoarsely whispered question, and it pulled away from his hand to lick at his glove. Trent cast Balm to heal its wound.

  “I can’t look after you. I can barely take care of myself! You aren’t alone, are you?” The Dog latched on to the tip of his finger and worried at it. Trent felt like an idiot for talking to it like the Dog was a person.

  “I'll get you away from here, and then you’re on your own! Got it?”

  More wagging. Trent was starting to think he was being tricked. Tucking the animal into the crook of his arm, he activated his Skills and began slipping through the brush. Stealth and Camouflage would be seriously tested as they tried to counter the squirming, whining animal Trent found himself saddled with.

  Chapter Ten

  Seth Al’verren settled into the upholstered chair in the room assigned to him and regarded Colonel Bromden over steepled fingers. “Explain to me, Colonel. Explain why you allowed a Baron to threaten me, and a common thug to manhandle my person!”

  The spoiled noble who had made a scene at Al’drossford’s gate was gone. Bromden wasn’t sure what that had been all about. Seth Al’verren was born to privilege, and that was exhibited in his mannerisms. He was not given to public displays. At court, Seth had always conducted himself appropriately and never did anything that might irritate his father. He was not a shining jewel in the royal family, but he was never an open embarrassment.

  During the last month of travel, however, Colonel Bromden had seen another side of this younger son. Seth had played the part of a drunken fool, pandering to the wants of lesser nobility. He had raved in public and private, creating a persona that would have him called before the throne, if the king were made aware.

  Bromden did not doubt that there was a plot afoot. Seth was often involved in court intrigue, and although those intrigues always failed, he was never discouraged. He was careful to keep his hands clean in his pursuit of influence, and the king allowed him his games, as long as he didn’t go too far. He had clearly crossed the line this afternoon, which didn’t seem to have occurred to Seth.

  Bromden lifted an eyebrow at the king’s son and then directed a significant look toward the other man in the room. Avery Cordwain leaned against the wall and stared out the window. The man was Seth’s closest confidante, but Bromden didn’t think Seth would want anyone to hear what he was going to say.

  “You may speak in front of Avery, Colonel,” Seth said, pressing a finger to his left temple. “Do so, quickly!”

  Bromden’s lips quirked at Seth’s tone. The younger man seemed to have forgotten that he could no more order an officer of the Immortals than he could Lewis Al’dross. “I allowed you to be manhandled, your highness, because the alternative for you was execution. The kingdom only has one prince, and that title is not yours. Outside of court, you may address yourself as Sir, but that is merely a courtesy.”

  “Executed! Al'dross wouldn’t dare! He has no backing among the Nobles. He is the least…” Seth leaned forward, his eyes fiery as he spoke through clenched teeth.

  “At court,” Bromden said, just as intensely, “that may be true. In Al’drossford, Duke Al’dross has no peers and needs no backing. Have you already forgotten how you nearly broke your teeth when he gave you an order? Lewis Al’dross is a Greater Noble! And from all accounts, that is the least of his Classes!”

  “Rumors,” Seth snapped. “Whatever Al'dross may be, he still stands below the King! What use are you and your men if you are unable to enforce the king’s laws!”

  Bromden was speechless for a moment. “The king’s laws say that Al'dross could take your head and send it back to your father in a basket! Is that the law you want me to enforce? Or did you want me to rebel against a Noble on his own lands?

  “I don’t know what game you think you are playing, highness, but I recommend you give it up.” Bromden rubbed his hands against his face. “That man who threatened to hang you from the wall? If Cullen of Al’drossford decides to do just that, I will not be able to stop him!”

  Without another word, Colonel Bromden spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. Once he was gone, Seth leaned back in his chair and cursed. At the window, Avery murmured, “The Right to Rule; I thought it a myth. You may have underestimated Al'dross.”

  “It appears that way,” Seth seethed, rubbing his jaw. It still ached from the force at which he had shut it. It didn’t sting half as much as being forced to follow Lewis’s command. “But Al'dross is still just a Baron, one who has been out of favor for years.”

  “A Baron who can intimidate a Colonel of the Immortals,” Avery mused in his velvet voice. “Your contingency may fail as well.”

  Seth hated hearing those words, but he didn’t glare at his advisor. “That will depend on you. Does Al'dross intimidate you as well?”

  “He does.” Avery brushed at his scarlet silks with long fingers. “And the Sergeant, as well. I couldn’t Identify either, and both sensed my attempts.”

  Seth stiffened in his chair. “That’s impossible!”

  Avery Cordwain was an Agent, a Class with little combat potential, but one which was unmatched in the realms of infiltration and information gathering. What little following Seth had managed to claim for himself was directly related to Avery’s Skills.

  “If Bromden will not depose the Baron for us,” Avery began.

  “Watch your words.” Seth shot out of his chair. “Are you trying to get us both arrested?”

  That had not been a concern before. But now, in the face of Bromden’s rebuke and that uncouth Sergeant’s threats, Seth was very aware that there was no Royal safety net to catch him in this keep. Plans made in the comfort of his personal villa felt riskier now that they were being put into play.

  “There’s no reason to worry,” Avery said mildly. “There are no spy holes in this room, nor are there listening enchantments. I almost think Al'dross has no Spymaster. Or if he does, the man’s skills are frightening.”

  Seth didn’t like hearing that word from Avery. “Al'dross doesn’t hold me in high esteem. Perhaps he doesn’t think it necessary to monitor my actions.” The thought rankled but was more acceptabl
e than the keep holding a man more at home in the dark than Avery.

  “Perhaps,” the Agent murmured, “it would be best to proceed cautiously with any further plans. This place may not be as simple as we believed.”

  “Keep an eye on my sister,” Seth said darkly. “If all else fails…”

  “That was never a sound plan,” Avery replied firmly. “Eliora’s death will have your father dragging us all into a truth circle.”

  “Nonetheless, if her death could be laid at the Baron's feet, this territory would fall into my hands readily enough.” It was all Seth dreamed of. He could never hold the Royal Class, and without a territory to lord over, the Noble Class brought little benefit. It was his aunt’s visit that gave Seth a slim glimmer of hope.

  Vanessa Al’dross was tolerated at court because the King still looked fondly on his younger sister. Her visit made it clear to Seth that she had no allies other than the King. Of course, she needed no others, and if the Al'dross had not been isolated, that support would have sufficed. Combined with a conversation Seth had overheard, where his father spoke of Lewis Al’dross as if he hated the man, Seth had seen his chance.

  The King would welcome an Al’verren ruling over this territory. Seth could finally have the title he deserved. All he had to do was force Lewis Al’dross to commit an act that would justify his fall, a minor thing in the Al’verren capital. Here, in the presence of a man with the Right to Rule…

  All of Seth’s plans seemed farfetched now. Seth had brought the most problematic Nobles he could find with him to cause trouble in the city. He had thought Al'dross would hesitate to act against the younger Nobles he had invited, and that when Lewis did, their families would pressure him.

  Counts and Earls would tremble before a hundred Immortals, but Colonel Bromden had been cowed by a single Sergeant! It was inconceivable, yet Seth had seen it with his own eyes. Seth suspected his “friends” would be in the city jails at the first sign of trouble.

  Blaming Al'dross for Eliora’s assassination? That was a pipedream, though one of Seth’s favorites. He had wished his sister dead the moment he realized the king favored her over him. Her death would bring the Immortals and the inquisitors in force. Those men wouldn’t settle for an official story; they would have the truth. They would punish any who had even thought of harming the king’s favorite. Seth would be no exception.

  “Where does that leave us?” Seth ran his hands through his hair and tugged at the ends of his auburn locks.

  “Patience,” Avery said with a shrug. “You made your plans from three thousand miles away. They won’t work. That doesn’t mean there isn’t one that will; we just have to find it. Easier to pluck a thread from a shirt you are wearing than one in your wardrobe.

  “In the meantime, Al'dross is expecting you for dinner.” Avery stretched his arms wide. “I suggest you apologize to him. Blame today on the stress of travel. Try to get on the man’s good side. It doesn’t help if he has his guard up around us.”

  At the mention of ‘guard” Seth unconsciously began rubbing his shoulder. That soldier had nearly pulled Seth’s arm from its socket when he grabbed hold. Seth would find a way to pay him back for that. Lewis Al’dross might be out of reach for now, but the Immortals would relish the chance to show up a common Corporal. Seeing the soldier beaten would calm Seth considerably, and it would take the lightest of prodding.

  “What will you be doing while I'm making nice?” Seth asked, a hint of sullenness slipping into his tone.

  “We need information.” Avery smiled and walked to the door. “You show Al’dross how well behaved you can be, and I will find a knife you can slip into his back once you’ve gotten close.”

  **********

  Outside the guest chamber, Avery’s crimson silks became the black and silver of an Al’dross servant. The disguise wasn’t perfect, servants rarely wore silk, but with the right posture, a busy eye would drift past him. Avery’s Class ensured that all but the wariest would see what was expected to see.

  Avery had been blessed with an honest but plain face. Wearing a lost expression and carrying a bundle of Seth’s clothing, he looked like a new hire that was confused by the keep’s layout as he began his search. He was careful not to overdo it. Show too much confusion, and someone might take pity and lead him to the laundry. The right amount of perplexed determination had the Guardsmen he passed making wagers on when he would stop and ask for directions.

  Avery had been in service to Seth Al’verren for close to seven years now. He couldn’t ask for a better master. Seth was conceited, overreaching, and blind to his own faults. He was also a Level 8 Scribe, planning to usurp the territory of a man married to the king’s sister. Avery would not bother trying to further those plans.

  He would, however, encourage them. Seth's conspiracies absorbed money like sand held water. It was easy for Avery to repurpose some of those funds for his own needs, and as long as Seth was fed a little flattery and a touch of truth, gold continued to flow.

  Avery had begun his life on the streets of Al'verren's greatest city, the capital, so cleverly named after its rulers and their kingdom. The royal family stamped their name on every landmark they could. Were they worried their citizens would forget them if a reminder wasn’t around every corner?

  Avery certainly never forgot. Looking at the palace from the slums, he swore he would walk its halls one day. It had been a shorter road than he thought it would be. He had a talent for being overlooked, and he played it to the hilt.

  While other urchins cut purses and picked pockets, often losing a hand for their troubles, Avery used his ears. He listened and filtered the information others never understood to be the true treasure. When Avery’s hand dipped into a pocket, it was for a slip of paper rather than a coin.

  He discovered where merchants and other rich men hid their valuables and sold those locations to thieves and local gangs. He told jealous wives where they could find their husbands when those men stayed out too late. He advised those same men when they should return home if they wanted to catch their wives, while the women were getting their revenge. It only paid a coin or two in most cases, but he built a reputation, which was the point.

  He came to the attention of Seth Al’verren when the man, who styled himself a prince, invested with a group of smugglers who were supplying a rebellion. Avery had almost let the opportunity pass him by. He wanted to walk in the palace, but he had no love of Royals. It would have been amusing to see Seth drawn and quartered for funding his father’s enemies.

  He had warned Seth, though. He brought the Noble proof and asked for no reward. He had to do that twice more before Seth took Avery on as his servant. Seth was nothing if not consistent. The man never saw a lame horse without betting on it. He was exactly the type of lord Avery had been looking for.

  At least that was true at the time. Avery was tired of pulling Seth out of messes. He had ambitions of his own, and while Seth wanted the land that was a Noble’s birthright, Avery merely wanted the title. Minor Nobility could be gained through service or marriage. Once the Class filled the second slot in his Status, Avery could acquire land the same way he earned everything else. Deception and hard work went together better than people wanted to acknowledge.

  This latest debacle of Seth’s was Avery’s dream. Lewis Al’dross was a generous lord with two unmarried daughters. The man who could warn Al'dross of a plot inside his own house could expect ample rewards. Knighthood wasn’t Avery’s ideal path, but he’d take it, and if the Baron offered him a small town where he could live as mayor? Avery had mastered the art of bending the knee while looking sincere.

  There was still Eliora to consider, as well. Eliora Al’verren was smarter than her brother but just as sheltered. In some ways, she was more vulnerable. She thought herself canny with her Assassin and Shadow Mage Classes. To Avery she was an open book, one he could read but never put on the shelf.

  It was Eliora that Avery found while looking for a noose to slip around Seth�
�s neck. Dressed in black leather armor, a black Cloak covering her silver hair, the girl was making her way through the keep, quite obviously not heading towards the dining hall.

  Curious, Avery tucked his bundle into the Storage device on his wrist and followed behind her. His silks changed to more common greens and browns, and by the time he left the keep at a discreet distance from Eliora, he looked more like a laborer than a noble’s servant.

  He didn’t add any of the necessary accouterments to complete this facade, as the person he was hiding from never looked back once. Eliora, despite her Assassin’s black, never once considered that she might be followed. Everyone who might be interested in doing so should be occupied with their meal at this time.

  Avery followed Eliora to the local Guildhall and watched as she paid the silver for a Guild Token. As Eliora cradled the wooden disk like it was a precious treasure, Avery’s lips split into a smile. The girl had come to this distant city with plans of her own, and now the Agent was confident he knew what they were.

  Chapter Eleven

  A young Elwire tree was just as sought after as the more mature variety. Perhaps more so. After a few years of growth, an Elwire couldn’t be felled until after it died. The young trees yielded to axe blades, and while the amount of wood produced was only suitable for crafting small trinkets and weapons, that was enough to make men rich. Weapons carved from Elwire wood were as hard and sharp as steel but lightweight and easily enchanted.

  Trent was in a Craftsman’s dream. His furtive wandering had brought him to a grove of Elwire too young to resist Strife’s blade. If it had been a real dream, a sleeping Craftsman would have viewed it as a nightmare, seeing an amateur chipping away at bounty meant for experienced hands.

  Trent had had to look up the tree in a Fairy’s Garden to discover its use. He might not have done that if the razor-sharp leaves hadn’t cut into the shoulder of his mail when he brushed up against them. He’d thought the grove, which was approximately a hundred square feet, a Safe Zone, given the way the Wererats circled it but didn’t enter. Now, he understood that the Trial Beasts avoided the grove because any careless movement resulted in serious injury.