Moonlight Banishes Shadows

by J. T. Wright

  He hoped the feathered Beast was correct and Martin had holed up somewhere nearby. Checking Map, Trent saw that he had explored just about every inch of the Moonlit Forest, and if he kept going, his internal Map would be complete. That didn’t mean much, however. Martin had legs; he could have moved in the time since the Reme left.

  Trent thought that unlikely. If Martin had found a relatively secure spot, he would be unwise to leave it. The Beasts challenging the Trial might not be hunting him, but he couldn’t know that. Trent walked beside the trail with Stealth and Camouflage active. He moved with deliberate steps, keeping watch for the silver trees, the trees he would choose if he wanted to hide.

  The first thing of interest Trent saw was the stone circle. It dominated a clearing, sitting a hundred feet from any tree. The word monolith came to mind. Towering stone pillars, connected by slabs laying across their tops, ‘stone circle' was not how Trent would describe what he was seeing. The Reme had a gift for understatement.

  Using Far Sight, Trent could make out pictures carved into the stone. Images of animals and men battling against the Trial’s Beasts, in packs and alone, covered the pillars from top to bottom. Trent saw Wolves carrying their prey to the ground under the weight of their numbers. Panthers slashed with claws that dripped blood. And the men…

  Trent had felt… welcomed… in the Moonlit Forest. The Trial spoke to a corner of Trent’s soul that had been dormant under Sergeant Cullen’s more civilized instruction. The Forest had helped him understand himself, to recognize that the restraints he imposed on his Classes had to be released when the situation called for it.

  Viewing the pictographs from afar, Trent asked the moon, silently, why he had been allowed to enter. The men depicted in the images did not wear armor or wield weapons. Their bodies were covered in fur and they attacked with teeth. Fox tails and Cat ears identified the warriors as Kindred, like Martin. This Trial was a place for Beasts to break through their limits and young Kindred to explore their heritage. Whatever lay at the heart of the circle held more meaning for Martin than it did for Trent, and the Thief, unable to see that, had betrayed what this Trial represented.

  And now he was hunted by an Al’rashian who did not belong. Trent tore his gaze from the pillars with an effort. The Reme had said not to enter that place. Martin would be outside, but where? No silver shone in the moonlight; no bushes moved against the breeze. Relaxing his eyes, Trent didn’t focus on any particular area and allowed Perception to dictate what was important.

  His senses felt alive! He could hear the battle cries of Beasts and the screams of the wounded. The smells of pine and blood drifted to his nose. To the right, halfway between the barrier of trees and the circle of stone, shifting grass stung Trent’s eyes with an obvious wrongness. There was something concealed there that did not belong. Martin Vane's Skills were better than Trent’s but not a match for a secondary Attribute which excelled at revealing secrets.

  “Arooo.” The smile spreading across Trent’s face froze at the sleepy sound coming from the satchel at his waist. A second groaning yawn sent his fingers to the knot over his belt and he tore at it. Dreq was waking up just in time to give Trent’s position away!

  Pulling the bag to the front, Trent reached in and snatched Dreq up by the scruff of his neck. The pups tail wagged sleepily, and he licked at Trent’s mask. Trent clamped his free hand around the Dog’s muzzle and shushed him. Dreq squirmed but remained quiet, his eyes solemn.

  Putting the Dog down on the grass, Trent took a days’ worth of dried meat out of Storage. A second thought had him doubling the food and tossing two Dire Wolf Fangs beside the rations. That should be enough to keep Dreq occupied.

  Casting a glance to make sure the lump he had noticed hadn’t moved, Trent bent down and stroked Dreq's head. “Stay here. No matter what, you understand? Stay here and stay quiet. I will be back soon.”

  Dreq was hunched over the dried meat, devouring it with gusto, and Trent took the wiggling of his rear as assent. The Dog hadn’t eaten in days and had little interest in anything but food. Trent place a bowl he had carved next to Dreq and filled it with water before patting the Dog again and straightening up.

  With his sword in his right hand and a bone dart in his left, Trent slipped through the shadows until he was directly across from the shape he assumed to be Martin. Sixty feet of open space separated him from the completion of his Quest. It was too far for a dart throw. Trent thought he might manage it with an axe, but now wasn’t the time for experimenting.

  Sword held low and to the side, Trent stepped into the clearing.

  **********

  Hunger gnawed at Martin’s center. A hunger that grass and bark couldn’t satisfy. He ground his teeth and dug his fingers into the soil. He had lain in this spot for what felt like a lifetime. Beasts wouldn’t enter this clearing. They would not approach the stone monument. He was safe here; safe to freeze and starve.

  He had tried venturing from this place several times in search of food. Twice he had discovered wounded creatures, but when he approached them, the animals forgot their injuries and attacked him. He had tried to fight them and ended up retreating. His Class was one of Stealth. He lacked huge reserves of Health and Stamina that would have allowed him to battle on even terms with Beasts. He relied on deception and only the creatures’ unwillingness to enter this clearing had preserved his life.

  At this point, Martin would even eat the tainted meat the Moon Cursed dropped. It would mean suffering the curse himself, but was that any worse than starving to death? Some of the Kindred reveled in the strength that could be gained by consuming a Were-Beast. They claimed that a few days a month of mindless savagery was a small price to pay, and Martin could accept that price now.

  The more Martin considered it, the more the idea appealed to him. If he survived this Trial, there would still be the chosen of Sallor to deal with. The heightened senses of the Moon Cursed would aid him. He could become a Were-Beast and Champion, and never have to cower before any, ever again!

  It was a fine thought. In practice, killing a Trial Beast had proven troublesome. When he drew near, the white eyes of Rats and Wolves tracked him no matter his Skills. He might as well have been drunkenly singing at the top of his voice for all the good Stealth and Hide did him. Trent had said he was marked, and the kid was right.

  Never speak of demons beneath a full moon. Motion directly in front of Martin caused his muscles to tense. The figure that stepped out of the trees was dressed in a mixture of whites, blacks, and grey. Even the sword he held was black, and he drifted forward in the moonlight.

  Martin pulled his cloak around his body as he stood, his fingers exploring the inner pockets that held the few weapons he had left. “Love to know how you do that, kid. How do you spot me? You a Swordsman or a Diviner?”

  Trent said nothing, his feet gliding through the grass, his breathing even. Martin gnashed his teeth. “Answer me! You fooled me once, but you can’t honestly expect to beat me? That trick with the fire, been thinking about that. It’s not a Swordsman’s Skill. You can’t keep it up long!”

  Still nothing. Maybe the kid’s tongue had been ripped out. Martin hoped not. He was looking forward to doing that himself. Martin’s fingernails extended into claws. Beneath the cover of his cloak, he drew a long, thin blade and held it close to his leg.

  “Let’s be reasonable.” Martin stepped back as he spoke. “It was wrong of me to scare you at the start, but you paid me back, yeah? Let’s work together, find the exit. There’s got to–"

  Martin threw himself to the side as Trent’s blade cut through the space he had occupied. Martin snarled and whipped his arm forward, his knife flashing. Trent leaned back to avoid the strike, and Martin activated one of his few combat Skills, Whisper Step. Impossibly fast, he was behind the Swordsman and using Back Stab.

  Pain and fear! Pain from the dart that pierced his left shoulder and fear from the speed with which Trent parried his attack. Martin back stepped as a sword
slashed at his face. The fear grew as Trent matched him step for step, his blade never pausing, shifting from one attack to another. Martin’s Agility kept the sword from cutting him, but when another dart stuck into his thigh, he almost screamed.

  Had Trent been lying when he told Martin he was a Level 9? He was too fast! Maybe he had leveled up some in this Trial, but this was too much. Nothing in the Thief’s experience could explain how a Warrior could keep up with him. Warriors invested in Strength and Constitution, and although Strength played a part in speed, Martin’s Class and Agility should have given him an edge. As it was, he was barely staying away from the dark blade in Trent’s hand, and he could not even see the darts the kid threw!

  When the third shard of bone lodged itself into his bicep, Martin abandoned the thought of killing Trent. Running! Running was his only way of escape! He could lose the Swordsman in the trees…

  Only he couldn’t! There was no safety in the cover of the Forest for Martin. The Beasts that roamed the Trial were as implacable as Trent. This clearing was the only place where Martin was free from the pursuit of claws and fangs. He was safe because none would approach the stone monument.

  Martin dodged a slash and sprinted for the stone pillars. He pulled the dart from his thigh and tossed it aside. The others could wait. He expected to feel a blade plunge into his back at any moment. He had to reach the circle. Maybe it was the exit! If he could leave this Trial and make it back to Bellrise, Trent couldn’t touch him.

  Under normal circumstances, thoughts of being sheltered by the law would have brought a sardonic smile to Martin’s lips. Now he swore he would kiss the boots of the first Guardsman he saw. He would offer gold to any god that helped him reach the stone circle before Trent. Whatever lay within had to be better than the silent killer that followed him!

  Martin needn’t have run so fast. His sudden escape had thrown Trent off his stride. Trent was too used to fighting Trial Beasts, which never backed down, no matter how the fight went. In his eyes, the Thief was no better than a Wererat. The last thing Trent expected was to be left without an enemy.

  The sight of Dreq running out of the trees to join Trent bought Martin another second. Trent waved the Dog back before beginning the chase. He threw a dart at Martin’s legs to hinder the man. His Throw Skill failed him, and the bone weapon vanished into the grass.

  As Martin passed between two pillars, Trent’s steps faltered. Thick slabs of rock began to rise up from the ground between all the stone columns, threatening to hide Martin from view. Trent had to grab the edge of the stone slab when he reached it and, pulling himself up, he rolled across and dropped to the ground on the other side.

  Martin’s back was to Trent as he landed; a single lunge and thrust were all it would take to finish him. Trent withheld the blow the Trial demanded. The inside of the stone circle was far bigger than it should be, much larger than it appeared from outside. The moon hung directly overhead and illuminated a space longer than the clearing, which held the monument, a space enclosed by towering stone walls.

  “Looks like we die together, kid,” Martin’s shoulders shook as he laughed helplessly. “Why don't you go first?”

  At the center of the circle, a bear with snow-white fur had reared up on its hind legs and roared, spraying foam and slobber into the air. On all fours, the creature had been fifteen feet at the shoulder and standing it rose to a height that made Trent feel like an ant. When its front paws fell back to the ground, the dirt rippled from the force.

  Martin was tossed from his feet as the land bucked beneath him. Trent rode out the wave with Steady Footing, but the lurch in his stomach said the bear's Skill had nearly broken his own. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he checked the notification in his Status.

  You have chosen to enter the den of the Guardian. Defeat Greater Dire Bear, the Forest Monarch, to clear the Trial.

  With the help of the Reme and his imbued wooden blades, Trent had managed to complete all the challenges the Trial had asked of him up to this point. After his encounter with the Shadow Wererat, it never once crossed his mind to go looking for the final Guardian.

  And the Guardian was a Dire Bear, not a Were-Beast. Though Liquid Silver might burn the Forest Monarch, it would not poison or weaken the Bear. The imbued longsword in his hand was not capable of doing an extra 30 Damage against this Beast. Sorrow and Strife had a higher basic attack rating than the wooden sword. Not that Trent switched his weapon for the knives. He doubted they were long enough to do more than prick this Guardian.

  Martin clambered to his feet and took off, putting as much distance as he could between himself, Trent, and the Bear. Trent, who had been about to offer to work with the Thief, swallowed his words. Martin was less dependable than a feathered Beast.

  Or maybe the Thief did have his uses. The Forest Monarch’s eyes tracked the fleeing Ratkin, and with a roar, it began lumbering after him. It was impressively quick for such a large animal, covering the distance to Martin in seconds and swiping at him with a paw wider than the man’s chest.

  What Martin lacked in attacking Skills he made up for with evasion. Assuming his Rat form, he scurried beneath the Bear’s strike and between its legs. He continued running and dodging as the Dire Bear stomped after him, rending the earth with its claws. Trent stood in relative safety, ignored for the moment as a lesser target. The Bear was the Trial’s Guardian, and the Moonlit Forest had taken issue with Martin’s betrayal of the Truce. The Forest wanted him dead.

  Trent absently wondered if he would receive the Quest rewards if Martin was flattened by the Bear rather than cut down by his sword. Then he realized how little that mattered. The Forest Monarch might be concentrating on the Thief for a moment, but once Martin’s luck ran out, Trent would be next.

  Trent raced after the Guardian and Ratkin. The ground rippled again as he lunged, spoiling his thrust, but with such a massive target, he couldn’t miss. His wooden blade sunk six inches into the Bear’s hide and then stopped. He tried to wrench it loose and was nearly pulled from his feet as the Bear surged forward after Martin. Trent let go of his sword hilt rather than get dragged along.

  While Martin screamed and scurried, nipping at the Bear’s legs and avoiding its crushing paws, Trent calmly took three more Elwire swords from Storage. He tied two of them to his belt with a leather strip and took the third in a two-handed grip.

  “Try to keep it in one place,” he hollered to Martin.

  “Sallor take your eyes, you shi–"! Martin was sent rolling as he failed to dodge completely and was hit by the edge of the Bear’s paw. He lay stunned for a moment, then began to run again without bothering to complete his insult.

  Not as dependable as the Reme, but if he kept the Bear occupied, Trent could put up with the Thief. Trent ran for the Dire Bear’s backside again and began slashing at the Beast’s leg. Slashes enhanced by Bloodletting scored the Bear’s skin while dashing Trent’s hopes of severing a limb. It felt like he was hacking at an Elwire with a spoon! It would take hours to whittle away the Forest Monarch’s Health this way!

  It was difficult to concentrate his blows in one place the way Martin led the Beast around. Trent’s precision and footwork were put to the test as he tried to keep up. When the Bear reared again, he seized the opportunity to plunge a Thrust deep into a cut in the creature’s leg and twist, opening the gash as much as he could.

  He managed this maneuver twice before the Bear came crashing back down, and this time Martin wasn’t the only one sent spinning by the Beast’s tremors. So close to the epicenter, Steady Footing broke and Trent was tossed to the ground. He lay stunned for a moment and then staggered back to his feet.

  He lost another sword. Tearing a new one loose, Trent paused before resuming his attack. This wasn’t working, and new tactics were called for before Martin was crushed and Trent lost his bait. His hand touched the pouch holding the Liquid Silver, and an idea formed.

  Watching to make sure Martin wasn’t leading the Fores
t Monarch in his direction, Trent dug out three Elwire darts and six bone darts, then took six bright yellow leaves from his Storage. He folded the leaves and stuck the darts of bone through them. Then, ever so carefully, he dripped Liquid Silver onto the bone darts without using Fire to imbue them.

  Martin, catching sight of Trent calmly fiddling around, spit out a curse. Thinking the kid needed to be reminded that there was a time and a place for playing, the Thief altered his course. With the Bear chomping behind him, Martin ran directly at Trent, a manic grin splitting his face. He could die happy if Trent were eaten first!

  His grin faded as he neared the boy, and instead of running, Trent lifted a hand. He held three needle-like darts fanned out in his fingers. Martin instinctively threw himself into a roll as Trent snapped his wrist and sent the darts flying. When Martin came to his feet and saw that Trent was still just standing there, he risked a look backward.

  The Bear’s roaring was a constant sound, but that bellow had more urgency to it now. The Forest Monarch was shaking its head wildly from side to side, and blood trailed down from its tightly clenched eyelids. Martin skidded to a halt.

  “Did you blind it?” The Thief shouted.

  “Doubtful, but at least it’s holding still now!” Trent answered. Six more darts appeared in his hands, and he proceeded to send them towards the Bear. The first two bounced off the Monarch’s jowls. Then Trent found the pattern to his weaving. The following four stuck to the roof of the Bear’s mouth and the back of its throat.

  The Beast’s jaws worked furiously, seeking to dislodge the irritants, and Trent almost cheered out loud when it swallowed. It was not time to celebrate yet. It remained to be seen just how effective poison from the leaves of Terah’s Mercy were. Trent wasn’t entirely sure the plant would harm the Beast given its bulk.

  “No, not blind, just angrier!” Trent called to Martin as the Bear’s reddened eyes popped open, “You should start running again!”

  Martin was infuriated by Trent’s words but had no chance to reply. The Monarch charged for him again, and Martin was forced to scurry for his life. Trent followed the pair to resume chipping away at the Beast.