Below the Moon

by Alexis Marie Chute

  Tall red bodies block my view. The Olearons from our company look bedraggled, not their usual erect and unwavering selves. The sprites are stained in blood, their greenish skin purple with ripe bruises. The way their hair twists into birds, constellations, and sailboats is no longer beautiful but disheveled and sad. All are drenched with rain and covered in salt and mud, sullying their vibrant clothing. One by one, the Olearons relight themselves with the help of the Lord and Islo. Again, their veins glow molten orange through their skin.

  I search for my important people. Grandpa Archie and Luggie are by my side. Duggie-Sky is cradled in Lady Sophia’s large bosoms. Then I see Nate joined by Dad. Both are frazzled, worn like the frayed edges of my favorite jeans. I can’t hear what they discuss. Their muscles are tense, their backs hunched worriedly. Nate bounces on the balls of his feet, as if ready to bolt at a track meet. Dad stands fixed, unmoving, though the fire at his neck has enveloped his face and thick dreadlocks. His eyes shimmer like black coals from within the blaze. I can see the orange veins throbbing with heat in his hands, as if at any moment a fireball will form on each palm. Dad was rarely mad at home, or at least he hid it better. Seeing him like this scares me.

  Where’s Mom? There’s a sickening acid in my gut, and this time it’s not the cancer.

  Mom? I call in my head.

  No answer.

  Shrugging off Luggie’s and Grandpa’s cautious hands, I inch forward.

  “Ella, no!” It’s Luggie. I choose to ignore him. He should know by now how stubborn I am, perhaps even more than him, but I’ll never admit to that.

  I pass by the steaming bodies of Junin and Nameris. There’s a figurative line drawn in the sand, though I can almost see one cut into the gravely earth. On one side is our company and the sprites. On the other side, the Bangols. And Mom.

  Mom!

  Stay back, Ella.

  What’s going on? What is Zeno doing?

  Zeno must sense my question. “Since your commotion scared away the Steffanus child, the one we needed to operate the Tillastrion,” Zeno says kindly, though his words are direct, “we Bangols require human blood.” He clutches Mom around the throat as another Bangol ties her up. She thrashes as much as she can, but it’s no use.

  “Take me instead,” Dad says through the lick of fire.

  “Funny, Arden. Really,” Zeno says, laughing at Dad. Hearing his human name sounds nice to my ears, filling my mind with images of my father with skin that matches mine, blue eyes like ice, and geeky cool glasses. “You did not trust me when you sought me out at my shop on Lanzarote, in the human world,” Zeno continues. “You stole my Tillastrion to use for yourself and only made it to Jarr-Wya because of my brother Winzun. Looking at you now—ready to fight for your family. What could possibly make me trust you? Plus, you are not the blood I need.”

  Grandpa Archie steps forward. “Me, then,” he says.

  Zeno laughs again. “Archibald! You have taught me the kindness of people, even when they betray you, which I have done to you countless times. You have shown me restraint, which is why I will not kill Tessa Wellsley once we arrive on Earth. You have also extolled to me the wisdom of the kings and rulers of your world, how they earn respect from the ones they lead. So with all these lessons, I cannot take you in Tessa’s place. All Bangols here would see the foolishness and weakness of that decision, and the vulnerability it would bring.”

  Grandpa Archie looks confused.

  “I have noticed your strength, Archibald,” says Zeno snidely. “It is obvious to anyone who has observed you from your first footfall on the Millia’s southern shore until now. I do not know who you really are or where you truly come from, but it is not the human world. And I will not risk my mission on that uncertainty.”

  “That uncertainty,” repeats Borgin fiercely.

  “Enough, Cousin!” snaps Zeno.

  I’m dumbstruck. What is Zeno talking about? Briefly, all eyes are fixed on Grandpa, who looks like he burns with equal heat as Dad. It’s the same look I have when Mom catches me reading my favorite fan fiction horror stories on the internet at midnight. Busted. He doesn’t speak up, however, and manages to eke out a deep breath. The Lord of Olearon slowly breaks his gaze from Grandpa and turns to Zeno.

  The Lord speaks coolly, despite the flame that tickles the back of his neck. “Let us discuss matters calmly, Zeno, and return our shared Jarr-Wya to a place of peace and cooperation.”

  “Under your rule?” Zeno snaps. “Am I right, Lord?”

  With these words, Zeno gestures to the machine behind him that emerges from the earth with blistering speed. The gears begin to move rapidly, with a flashing white light that blinds eyes accustomed to days spent beneath the waning sun. The rain reflects the brightness and glistens like falling silver. The screeches from the Tillastrion transform into a zinggggg that spew hungry, stinging sparks. Some come close to me, and I trip backward.

  Zeno’s hand still clutches Mom. The Bangols behind them, guided by the fumbling Borgin, begin to leap over the cusp of the gorge or summon rocks to catch them as they take faithful steps into the gaping opening. Our company advances, but not quickly. Tentative, leery. I roll to my knees but can’t see past the red bodies and the running and splashing of muddy water.

  “Goodbye, Archibald,” says Zeno.

  “Goodbye,” echoes Borgin, to Zeno’s annoyance.

  When I make it to my feet, blood oozes from my scraped knees and granules of dirt cake my eyelids. The machine glows. Lightning forms red daggers through the atmosphere. Everyone runs. Voices bounce off each other. It’s all too much, but also too little. The enormous Tillastrion blasts our company back in an explosion of blue. We who remain above the chasm have been flattened; the sky presses down on us, and I can’t move. Then the air is sucked out of the fortress like a stolen breath. The sensation of suffocation I remember vividly from being tied in the Bangol sack comes back to me.

  I fight to my feet once more, my ears ringing and my eyes playing a cruel game. The Tillastrion is gone. The Bangols are gone. The earth reveals a hollow void beyond my feet; I stand weakly on its crumbling edge.

  Mom is gone.

  Chapter 25

  Archie

  Archie curses. Ardenal looks to his father, who is never one for profanity, and rambles hopeless words. Everything aligns in Archie’s mind. While his attention was on the company—Ella and the others wounded and trapped beneath hardened fragments of bubble—Zeno and the Bangols realized that the Steffanus Xlea had slipped into hiding. They determined which of the humans would be easiest to subdue—though Archie thinks they greatly underestimated Tessa—and grabbed her when no one was looking.

  Borgin, the timid one Archie watched report to Tuggeron on the status of the Tillastrion, snuck down to ready the great machine. Other Bangols grabbed what they needed during the confusion and descended, unnoticed, into the heart of Jarr-Wya. All they required was Tessa.

  The Lord stands like a deeply rooted tree. “That is one problem resolved,” he says.

  “Resolved? Resolved?” Lillium’s voice rises with each word.

  The Lord glowers at her, though even his most vicious words sound even. “Do you question my judgment? Perhaps I should—”

  “She has done nothing wrong!” pipes up Quillie.

  Pinne finishes her twin’s thought. “We sprites believe even our queen should listen to those she rules and speak kindly in the process.”

  The Lord, unaccustomed to any kind of reprimand, stirs in a swell of his own fire before Archie steps between the Olearon and the sprites. “We’re all friends here,” he says.

  Lillium’s cheeks flush as red as her hair and she flutters away in a huff. The sprites, not prone to confrontation, also disperse. They send pairs throughout the fortress to unlock the wire cages and set free the awakin butterflies, who thank the sprites with kisses before fluttering away.

  “It’ll be impossible to find her …” Nate says. He stands at the precipice of the gorge where o
nce the Bangols’ machine bulged out of the earth, reddening the pale clay with rust. It also filled the air with unnatural sounds, which kept the black flyers at bay to the perimeter of the fortress beyond the maze. Now, the morphed two-headed creatures circle overhead, wary of the fortress but close enough to cast grim shadows like the equally ominous storm clouds. Nate watches them and clutches his blade.

  Nameris taps his chin, which drips with rain. “The Bangols will be transported to the place Zeno knows best, where he lived while banished.”

  Lady Sophia covers her mouth, muffling a shocked gasp. Duggie-Sky takes the singer’s hand and swings it gently.

  “So you can guess?” Azkar growls. He kicks a stone into the cavernous void, past Nate, and the sound ricochets and echoes. “The island from where your ship, the Atlantic Odyssey, departed.”

  “Lanzarote,” Nate mumbles. The mention of his ship brightens yet troubles the captain’s features. “The Canary Islands … When I met Zeno here on Jarr-Wya, on our trek east to save Ella, he grumbled about the shop he operated for years.”

  “The shop named ‘Treasures,’” Archie whispers, remembering. He pictures the splintering wood sign swinging above the door. Its paint was chipped but still clearly depicted an island with a lonely mountain at its center. Archie now knows that island to be Jarr-Wya and the mountain Baluurwa the Doomful, home of the Steffanus sisters.

  Inside Treasures, Archie found a shop bursting with dusty parasols, ornately carved furniture likely containing hidden compartments, and incense that smelled oddly familiar. He now recognizes the smell as the spirit of Naiu, which lingered in the dwelling of the displaced Jarrwian. Naiu called to Archie even then. Finally, here in the world of Jarr, he wonders how he lived his life without it.

  Treasures boasted brine-rusted necklaces and tarnished green copper tea ware. At the back of the shop stood a pale, illuminated cabinet with a scattering of gold objects—pens and pendants, rings set with opals, tiny figurines of dragons, and a gold-plated skull with diamonds glinting from its eye sockets. That was where Archie first met Zeno.

  “The Bangols’ powers will be weakened in Jarr’s derivative,” Nameris points out.

  Kameelo swoops down from a sky. “With the Bangols weakened, we will have the advantage and can overtake them,” adds the young Olearon, who uses his power to hover a foot above the ground.

  Azkar growls, annoyed. “Our flames will be weakened as well, brother. We cannot know the power of our fire until arrival. We need greater numbers or we will be the ones overtaken.”

  “Wretched Bangols.” The Lord’s words blossom with hate, and all eyes—last of all the Lord’s—turn to Luggie.

  Ella slips her hand into the fold of Luggie’s arm and intertwines his thick fingers with her own.

  “Not you, Luggie. You’re different,” says Lady Sophia.

  “You do not need to comfort him, human,” the Lord says evenly. “Luggie recognizes his father’s lunacy. Thankfully, Zeno took care of Tuggeron for us. I believe Luggie also sees that the Bangols must come under proper rulership or be annihilated. And the only one fit to rule is here with us right now.”

  “You,” says Duggie-Sky to the Lord, voicing what all assume.

  Instead, the Lord turns to gaze at Luggie and wipes a twinge of disgust from his face.

  “Oh! Yes!” Lady Sophia sings.

  All flick their eyes to look at Luggie, who clenches his jaw without looking up from his boots and muddy hupper fur garments.

  “My Lord,” Luggie finally says, “if they do not comply, I will be honored to be the last of my kind.”

  Like the rest of the company, Archie finds himself speechless. He tilts his head in bewilderment but knows he cannot ask the obvious question so openly. He will have to inquire later about the Bangol’s unexpected submission to the Lord’s will. Perhaps, Archie wonders, I can ask the Maiden what’s going on. If only she’d appear again. All gazes but Luggie’s flit between each other. No one says another word on the matter.

  “And to you all,” the Lord says, “you speak as if our course is set for the land of the humans. The Bangols’ departure inadvertently removed a rival on Jarr-Wya, one to be confronted at a later time. However, our mission is here: to locate the Star. I am quite confident that once it is found and held in the hands of the Olearons, all will be made right.”

  Junin stands beside Ella and Luggie, examining their wounds and letting the rain wash out lingering dirt and debris. Ella steps away from her hot hands. Her young face wrinkles in a scowl, her lips locked. She turns to Archie, eyes pleading, and lifts her hands to sign. Ella makes a flat vertical plane with her right hand, while the other is fixed palm up before her. She slices the air, moving the vertical hand in a downward chop on the skyward palm. She signs this, “Stop,” repeatedly, then rubs her chest in the gesture for “Please.” Finally, she signs “Mom.” Her thumb touches her chin, her fingers erect.

  “My Lord,” Archie begins smoothly, winking at Ella, “there are horrors in my world you’d never believe. The weapons and technology—more powerful than the Bangols’ great machine—would be lethal in their possession. If you truly want peace, we must return the Bangols to where they belong. Here. As soon as possible. And save Tessa and all the humans in the process.”

  Ella smiles and nods at Archie through the pain on her face as Junin tenderly holds her while Ardenal seals her bleeding knees. Junin moves on to Luggie, cauterizing his palm. He stretches the blistering flesh and masks his pain.

  The Lord’s eyes narrow. “And what if those weapons and technology, as you say, were in the hands of the Olearons?” he asks.

  “They do not belong in this world, Lord,” answers Ardenal, “and weapons meant for hate belong not in any world. I am a student of human history, and what I have learned is this: peace comes at a cost. When it is bought with blood and violence, those under the new rule do not submit for long.”

  “You are saying that we must earn peace through peace?” asks Junin.

  “True peace, yes. If we can avoid war today, yes. If we can avoid war in the future, again, my answer is the same.” Ardenal pushes a finger up the bridge of his nose, lifting his phantom glasses, a nervous habit from when he was human. That gesture reminds Archie of Suzie, Seattle, and the unsuspecting people of the Canary Islands, who by now are reacquainted with the conniving Bangol, Zeno.

  Ardenal continues, straightening his posture. The fire at his neck is a low, controlled simmer. “But I agree with you, Lord, on one important point. We must maintain our mission to reach the Star. It is the only way to save Ella and Jarr. If we fail to stop the Star, Earth will be destroyed as well.”

  Ella’s face twists with realization. Archie watches her through the storm. His granddaughter scowls at her father. Archie can see that to Ella, Ardenal’s words have sealed Tessa’s fate.

  Nameris, always one to calculate without emotion, adds, “Since the Bangols needed Tessa to jump portals, they will likely have no use for her upon arriving, what with all the humans readily available. She may not be alive for us to save.”

  Ella chokes on a green bird. She spits it onto the muddy earth, but it is dead already, trampled under the frantic feet and wings of ten others that fight their way past her pale lips.

  Luggie loops his arm around Ella’s waist, steadying her. “I do not believe Zeno plans to slaughter the humans he meets on the other side of the portal,” he says, and for a moment Ella looks hopeful. “He desires to rule. He will put the humans to work. As for Tessa, because of you, Archibald, Zeno will be reluctant to kill her. She will be safe for now. If we are taking a vote, I am with Ardenal in this decision. Let us save Jarr—and Ella. Then I will pursue Zeno myself.”

  Ella is frozen in place, glaring, shrinking before Archie’s eyes.

  “I see wisdom in Luggie’s words. No vote is necessary,” begins the Lord. “And perhaps, as you so pointedly suggest, Ardenal, the Steffanus warriors will listen to a plea for peace.”

  “And if not?�
� asks Ardenal, though his wrinkled brow tells Archie that his son already suspects the Lord’s plan.

  “Then at least we have her to help in the negotiation,” the Lord says, and he yanks from the stone rubble a small bruised and bleeding body.

  Xlea, clutching her book, scowls up at the Lord.

  Chapter 26

  Ella

  We’ve taken shelter from this never-ending storm beneath the Bangols’ band shell at the amphitheater. Most in the company are scheming. I hate them all. Lady Sophia snore-sings as she sleeps, passed out with a rock for a pillow. Kameelo and Duggie-Sky toy with Tanius’s antler, passing it back and forth like a baseball, putting it to use since it will no longer serve to provoke the Bangols. The Bangols aren’t here—except for Luggie.

  I’m furious with Luggie. I don’t care that he’s trying to save me. In the process, he’s allowing Mom to be held captive, hurt, or even—no, I can’t think it. I’m also furious with Dad, for obvious reasons. He’s hurt by Mom choosing Nate, so he’s turned his back on her. Well, I don’t think that’s the way to win over the woman you love. Ugh. Everyone’s annoying me. I hate their plans. I hate their cocky faces.

  I even hate that Kameelo and Duggie-Sky are playing with that antler. It’s making sport of an enemy’s bone, making light of death. It’s not right. I’m sick of everyone, and argh, will Luggie just leave me alone already? I glare at him and find a lonely corner of the band shell to curl up in.

  Dad warmed me up, dried my clothes moments before, but I bet I could have done it myself with the fire of anger that burns in me. The only one who knows how to talk me down when I’m this mad is Mom—but can our minds connect between portals? Worlds apart?

  Mom? Mom, can you hear me? Mom? We need to talk!