Moonshadow

by J. D. Gregory

  Though she might not be able to confidently talk to anyone yet, Diana’s reading comprehension was growing at a rapid pace, and she was typically able to understand most of the conversations spoken around her. Diana had always had a mind for languages. They just came naturally to her for some reason. After achieving a working comprehension of Akkadian, Diana was fairly confident she could learn just about any foreign tongue. Vanicar—the Naphalei language—had turned out to be infinitely easier to master than ancient Babylonian. It almost felt as if she were learning a language that she had once known in a dream or another life—it was as natural as learning to speak English as a child.

  The rumble in Diana’s tummy caused her to forget all notions of language barriers and she turned around to look to see if Emily would be along any time soon.

  As Diana had hoped, the spritely girl soon emerged from out of the long hallway. Tonight she wore a hunter-green dress with a light-brown bodice and matching underskirts. She also had her auburn hair in a low bun, with two long bangs draped to the sides of her face, drawing attention to her golden ear ornaments—a common fashion among thrall women. Clasped behind the outer ear, the pointed accessories invoked the image of a Naphalei’s ears.

  The sight of Emily filled Diana with a fair amount of satisfaction.

  “It’s about time,” Diana said to her friend. “I was about to come looking for you.”

  “That ready for supper, are we?” Emily’s Scottish accent always made Diana smile.

  “Yes, I’m starving,” Diana replied with intensity.

  Emily laughed at her enthusiasm. “Do you do anything besides eat and read?”

  “Not really,” Diana said with a playful smirk. “Those are my two favorite things.”

  “Well that’s obvious. You had your nose in that grammar of yours when I first saw you—even as you were spooning slaw in your mouth.”

  “And if you hadn’t sat across from me, and tapped on the spine with your fork until I put it down, I might have stayed happily engrossed in it.”

  “It’s a good thing I did, Di” Emily said with a nod. “There’s a lot more to this crazy life if we human lasses stick together; you’ll learn that soon enough.”

  “I already have, Em,” Diana said with a warm smile.

  She’d only known her fellow thrall for a matter of days, but Diana had already grown rather fond of Emily. Apart from Lani, she was the quickest friend Diana had made in years. She hoped the two girls could meet one day; Diana couldn’t imagine the trouble they could get into together.

  Originally from Inverness, in northern Scotland, Emily was only a couple of years older than Diana and had been enthralled at the age of six. Currently, Emily was employed as a lady’s maid to an Archon’s daughter. Since that first night, she and Diana had been regularly eating their meals together, and in her off hours, Emily would help Diana with her Vanicar studies. Diana had already learned much from Emily, including a bit about what life was like for humans in Naphalei lands. In return, Diana informed her new friend about current trends among the human youth in the outside world. Diana found it exceedingly strange to be explaining things like Facebook and YouTube to a girl roughly the same age as she was.

  “How far along are you now?” Emily asked, gesturing to Diana’s book of grammar.

  “I’m only two chapters from the end, actually.”

  “That’s brilliant! It took me two years to learn that much.”

  “Well, you didn’t have such a good teacher to help you,” Diana said, smiling as they began the long walk to the lower dining hall.

  Diana had been making progress on her own—and with Darien’s help—but it was Emily who had become a real resource to her. Learning from someone who had gone through the same process proved much more useful than offensive grammar books.

  “Aye, tis true Di,” Emily replied with playful smugness. “Maybe I should teach my own Uni class.”

  Diana fought the urge to cringe; she had always hated being called Di. Regardless, she liked Emily, so she’d just been going along with it—for now.

  “I’m not too sure the Naphalei would be very keen on that one, Em,” Diana told her friend. “That’d probably be reason enough for them to give you the Treatment.” She’d heard quite a few colorful phrases for killing someone over the years, but the slang for death-by-thrall ring just sounded unsettlingly creepy.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Emily said with a smirk. “Plus, I’m not so good with English anymore. I’ve been speakin’ like them blade-ears for so long, I don’t remember my own language half the time. It’s been nice just sittin’ round gabbin’ with you, Di—makes me feel like a wee one again. Most thralls are forbidden to talk in human speak by their betters, and even if they can, many don’t speak English.”

  “I’m glad to have you around too, Em. I’ve only been a thrall for a few weeks and this is the first time I’ve left America. It would have been pretty hard without you.”

  “Lord Stoneheart doesn’t seem all that bad,” Emily said with a mischievous smile. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you as well—and so has Lady Tylvanna. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her jealous of a human before. She’s had a few choice names for you while she’s been in her cups.”

  Diana smiled wide with satisfaction at the notion of Emily’s mistress being jealous.

  She had only come into contact with Lady Tylvanna Skywhisper twice, and she already hated the woman. Coincidently, Tylvanna had known Darien since childhood, and had been more than happy to see the young Lord Endymion again. As Darien explained it—rather uncomfortably—after Diana’s first encounter with Tylvanna, her Archon father had been a close friend of his own father’s and the two clan lords had schemed for their twins to marry each other and unite the families. Darien assured Diana that he’d never harbored any such intentions on his part, regardless of his father’s wishes, and that he’d hardy seen Tylvanna in two hundred years. From what Diana had witnessed, however, Lady Tylvanna certainly hadn’t forgotten her childhood intended. The white-haired elf skank was always fawning over Darien and it made Diana’s blood boil.

  Nearing the dining hall, Diana and Emily turned the corner to find the corridor unusually congested with a mixed crowd. Along with the usual lower-class passengers, quite a few Toffs, who had likely never left the upper decks, were milling about and conversing intently with their attendants as several of the ships security officers asked them questions.

  Something was definitely wrong.

  Diana could feel the terrified anxiety of many people in the crowd rushing off of them in waves, giving her a twisting knot of fear in the pit of her stomach.

  “I wonder what all the fuss is on about,” Emily said when they couldn’t proceed much further down the corridor.

  “There was an attack,” said a distressed human maid with a French accent directly in front of them.

  “What sort of attack?” Diana asked, steadily growing anxious. “Was anyone hurt?” She stood on the tips of her toes for a better look but couldn’t see much of anything besides the mass of people.

  The woman turned around to look at them with a deep concern in her pointed face that enhanced the crows-feet at her eyes. “A human attendant was found dead in the custodial closet down the hall. Her body was drained.”

  Emily gasped and Diana found her friend’s fear much more troubling than the mixed emotions of the crowd.

  “Melkafir…” Emily said softly and the French woman nodded her agreement.

  “What is Melkafir?” Diana asked, wanting desperately to know what had filled her typically strong-willed friend with such terror.

  “The Forsaken,” the French woman answered, fright entering her eyes at her own words. “Creatures more monstrous than the vampires they inspired. They are Naphalei that have given themselves over to dark forces in exchange for power and immortality. They feed on the lifeblood of humans to sustain themselves.”

  Diana recalled Darien’s comments the night he had revealed his
true self to her. She’d only been joking about her vampire suspicions but Darien had been offended, calling the creatures apostates and abominations. Now one of these “Forsaken” was somewhere on the ship, stalking humans and feasting on their blood.

  “I saw one once, when I was a child,” Emily interrupted with fear-filled eyes that gazed into nothing as she recalled the memory. “The creature came for me out of the mists of the Loch as I was walking home from my gran’s house. A Demon Hunter appeared and severed the thing’s head from its shoulders before it reached me, though. Ironically, my life ended that night anyway. The Hunter slapped the ring around my wrist and that was that; I never did get to say goodbye to my mum and dad.”

  Diana gently took Emily’s hand into her own and gave it a comforting squeeze. “How did a Melkafir get on the ship?” Diana asked the French woman.

  “They are investigating now,” she replied. “Luckily, an Ardeqai Inquisitor is on board the vessel. He is working with the ship security forces to track the creature.”

  Even though she was sharing in the fear surrounding her, Diana’s curiosity concerning the Melkafir made her want to know more about this sudden new threat. Perhaps there was a way she could keep Emily and herself from being the creature’s next meal.

  Diana was pulled from her thoughts when the crowd suddenly parted down the middle, half of the crowd to each side of the corridor. A very authoritative elven man about Darien’s age, with a pointed face and furrowed brow under his short white hair, appeared from out of their midst. He wore a white and gray uniform with gold trimmings, militaristic in design, with golden ornamental shoulder plates trimmed in red. He began making his way towards Diana, with two similarly uniformed compatriots at his heels, their long, scarlet-lined, gray cloaks flowing behind them.

  As he neared, Diana noted the golden shoulder decorations—the ornamentations worn by the upper classes that bore the clan sigil of the wearer. The image that adorned this one’s plates was in the likeness of a hawk swooping downwards in flight, with a serpent in its talons—it struck Diana as familiar, somehow. As the man passed in front of her she felt his eyes meet her own for a fraction of a second, and in that short moment, a chill ran up the length of her spine.

  That is a dangerous man. Diana thought it best to stay clear of him—and his gray-cloaked compatriots.

  “The Inquisitor, I take it?” she asked, turning to Emily.

  “Sure is,” she replied with a nod. “Knight-Inquisitor Turion Skywhisper—Lady Tylvanna’s brother.”

  “I thought I recognized that clan sigil,” Diana exclaimed. “Tylvanna had it pinned to her ribbons the other night.” She continued to watch the Inquisitor as he turned the corner and out of sight. “He seems so different from her. What sort of man is he?” she asked, curious.

  “He’s cold most of the time, but he’s always treated me respectfully. I can’t say the same for much of clan Skywhisper. The branches are rubbish, if you ask me.”

  “What are branches?”

  “Oh right,” Emily said. “I forget you don’t know much about this stuff.” She used a pointed finger to draw imaginary illustrations. “Picture a tree. Each clan is made up of a trunk family that inherits the titles and lands of the Belaron, and branch families that serve the Archon but still act like they are better than everyone.” Emily shrugged after her description. “Title-envy, I suppose.”

  “Dar—Lord Endymion hasn’t mentioned his branch relatives before.” Darien rarely mentioned the other members of his clan. Apart from Edea, his twin, Diana didn’t know of any other Stonehearts.

  “I don’t know much about clan Stoneheart, but I have visited the Belaron once or twice with Lady Tylvanna. The manor looks like no one has lived in it for centuries.”

  “Curious,” was all Diana said in reply. She would have to talk to Darien about his abandoned estate at a later time. At present, though, she was starving. With the Inquisitor gone, the crowds had dispersed and supper was about to be served in the dining hall. Diana could already smell the wonderful aromas at the end of the long corridor.

  Hopefully, a nice hot meal and a few glasses of mulled wine would be enough to take Diana’s mind away from the blood-drinking horror stalking the halls.

  —

  Diana was pulled from her after-dinner studies by a sudden knock at the door and looked to the bedside clock. It was still rather early in the evening and Emily had been called away to attend to Lady Tylvanna. Who could it be?

  She swiftly left her comfortable position on the bed to open the door for her unexpected visitor.

  It was Darien. He’d come knocking significantly earlier than usual.

  Diana’s heart leapt at the sight of him and the heat rushed to her face. Every time, she thought, shaking her head. Endymion Stoneheart in his elven finery always made Diana swoon like a damn school-girl.

  Tonight he wore an ivory frock coat with black lapel and collar, the accents trimmed in silver. Above his lime green vest, the silk cravat tired around his neck was penned with an emerald gemstone that matched the sash around his waist. He also wore caramel-colored breeches tucked into his polished black riding boots. What typically took Diana’s breath away when saw she him, however, was his unstyled hair. In human lands, Darien always slicked his hair back and combed it in an old-fashioned style. Now back among his own people, Darien’s loose black hair always had a windswept appearance to it, like he’d just come from hunting foxes on horseback.

  Though he had looked gravely concerned when Diana opened the door, Darien took one look at the books strewn about her quarters and laughed heartily.

  “I’m glad to see that the threat of the forsaken abomination has done little to sway you from your studies.”

  Diana shut the cabin door as Darien went to take his seat in her reading chair.

  “Yes well, me being curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth, doesn’t accomplish very much, now does it?” Diana replied with candor. “I thought studying about Melkafir would be much more productive than living in fear of them.”

  “And?” he asked. “Are you now an expert Demon Hunter?”

  “Not really,” Diana said with a playful grin as she eased back into the comfort of her bed. “I did read quite a bit about Demon Hunters, though. They sound pretty epic.”

  “It’s not a life I’d choose, that’s for certain,” Darien said with conviction.

  “I couldn’t really find much about Melkafir in my books—nothing of substance, anyway.” Diana widened her smile. “I figured I’d just ask you.”

  Darien chuckled at her enthusiasm. “What do you want to know?”

  “Oh, just tell me everything,” she replied, easing herself into a more comfortable position. “You wouldn’t oversimplify even if I asked.”

  “True enough,” he said with his own wide smile before beginning his lecture.

  “The Melkafir—what some humans call Blood Elves, Death Fae, and Vampires—first appeared in the Age of Death and Darkness and will likely persist until the Remaking. Melkafir—which means ‘the Forsaken Ones’ in our most ancient dialects—aren’t born; they are made.”

  “Like a vampire,” Diana interjected and Darien nodded.

  “Our long lives can be both a blessing and a curse at times. You’ve no doubt seen how vanity among humans causes them to seek ways to stop aging and look young again—including dangerous surgeries. Humans only age over the course of decades, imagine the vanity welled up in those who age over centuries.”

  “Wow, I never thought about it like that,” Diana said, fascinated by the notion. “So most Melkafir give themselves over to dark powers to remain young and beautiful forever?”

  “Exactly, and those powers feed off of the life essences in human blood.” Darien shook his head at the foolhardy notion. “The poetic irony of it all, is that the entities inside of the Melkafir distort their bodies, and the longer they live, the more they take on the nature of the demon.”

  “Why humans; they can’t drink Naphal
ei blood too?” Diana asked.

  Darien shook his head. “Our blood is too powerful. The dark forces would grow too strong and consume the host.”

  “Lucky us,” Diana said with sarcasm. “Are they like vampires in any other ways? Can they be killed by stakes, sunlight, or silver?”

  “Unfortunately no,” Darien replied. “The need to consume human blood is about where the similarities end, I’m afraid. They can walk in the daylight and most conventional weapons can’t kill them—they are true immortals. Only when no trace of their physical body remains, is a Melkafir truly dead.”

  “I guess watching all those seasons of Buffy didn’t pay off after all,” Diana muttered.

  “What’s a Buffy?” Darien asked, looking confused.

  “A TV show, don’t worry about it.”

  “Ah, I won’t then. And neither should you. We will be docking in two days; you will be safe if you remain in your cabin until then. I will bring you your meals.”

  “Excuse me?” Diana said in irate surprise. “I’m not going to sit here in solitary confinement just so you can feel better. Do you know how lonely I’ve been?”

  Darien looked apologetic. “I know, and I am very sorry, but all of this is for your own good, Diana. If the nature of our relationship was ever made known, especially on this ship…”

  “You mean Inquisitor Turion, don’t you?” Diana interrupted.

  Darien’s eyes lit up in surprise. “How do you know about him?”

  “Emily told me all about Tylvanna’s brother,” she replied. “We saw him at the murder scene on our way to supper. He gave me the creeps.”

  “It would be best if you stayed clear of him. Turion may be more honorable than most when it comes to humans, but he still firmly believes their place is in subjugation. Give him just cause and he’ll execute you without thinking twice about it.”

  “Gotcha; stay clear of prejudice jerks,” she said, sardonically appearing to think over the obvious. “Oh wait—I guess I have to go home now.”