Night of the Shadow Moon

by A. E. Rayne

  Not when she was with him, at least.

  It was all that he could do.

  ‘I’m here,’ Jael said, at last, clearing her throat. She glanced around the house, avoiding Biddy’s eyes. ‘We have a lot to organise today.’ Standing up, she reached for her trousers, feeling her amulet swinging between her breasts. Her father had given it to her when she’d come home, promising her that Furia would always protect her.

  That nothing bad would ever happen to her again.

  Biddy didn’t look any less worried. ‘I’m making apple hotcakes,’ she smiled. ‘I thought Eydis might like them. And you.’

  Jael grimaced, shaking her head. ‘Not for me. I have to go and see Beorn. We need to finalise our plans for tonight.’

  Gisila muttered to herself as she helped Eydis dress. ‘Are you sure it’s going to work?’ she asked anxiously. ‘That they won’t know we’ve broken their spell?’

  Jael shrugged as she sat on the bed and pulled on her boots. ‘I have no idea,’ she admitted. ‘But we’ll know tonight. I’m sure if the dreamers see what we’re doing, they’ll make a fuss. So, we’ll need to be prepared either way.’

  ‘Did you have any dreams?’ Gisila wondered. ‘Anything that would help?’

  Jael froze, one hand on her cloak, her shoulders tightening themselves into knots. ‘No. None that would help,’ she said stiffly, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders and reaching for her swordbelt. ‘How about you, Eydis?’

  Eydis, who was still half asleep, shook her head. ‘None that would help. Or that made sense.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Jael yawned, bending down to pat the puppies who were desperately trying to get someone to let them outside. ‘What about you, Grandmother?’

  ‘Me?’ Edela croaked, stretching her arms above her head as she considered getting out of bed. ‘Oh, yes, I had a very useful dream indeed!’

  Gerod never had an appetite in the morning. He preferred to take his meals at midday and dusk, so he was up early, stalking the many chambers of the temple, checking on the elders and dreamers as they went about their morning tasks, his sharp eyes impatiently scrutinizing their every move.

  ‘Thea, isn’t it?’ he asked the mousey girl who looked petrified to be called upon as he entered the Chamber of Dreams. ‘Tell me, what did Morana say when you told her about the Brekkan army’s approach?’

  Thea had barely roused herself out of bed and quickly draped her cloak around her shoulders as she stood, shivering before him. ‘I did not find her, my lord,’ she mumbled.

  Gerod twitched with displeasure. ‘What? What was that you said?’ he hissed through clamped teeth. ‘You did not... find her?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘But how is that possible? Only the elite dreamers are admitted into this chamber. How is it possible that you cannot accomplish the simple task of dream walking?’

  Thea felt her body warm with embarrassment. The other dreamers, all seven of them, remained quiet behind her. They were much older women; more experienced, but not better dreamers, she was certain. ‘Perhaps she was not asleep, my lord?’ Thea suggested quietly.

  Gerod bit his tongue. ‘Not asleep?’ he growled. ‘Your excuse is that the fault is not your own, but Morana’s? That she was not asleep?’ He looked incredulous, his anger spiking.

  ‘If Morana is preparing to perform the ritual tonight, then she would be purifying herself,’ one of the other dreamers spoke up. ‘She would not eat, nor drink, nor take any rest, my lord.’

  Gerod rounded on the snowy-haired woman, his eyes bright with rage. ‘You think that I don’t know what a dreamer must do before a ritual?’ he snorted, annoyed that he had not thought of that himself. He glared at them all. All those useless, pathetic women who had done nothing; who had told him nothing in days. He rounded on Thea. ‘You will leave the chamber! Get your things. I have no need for someone who does not even understand the basics of what is required here. Go back and join the rest. I shall promote another,’ he snarled. ‘Someone with more... experience.’

  Thea’s eyes filled with tears of shame as she turned back to her bed.

  Gerod ran his eyes over the rest of the dreamers. ‘You will all try and make contact with Morana, Yorik, any of them. I need to know what I’m to do with the Brekkan army when it arrives, if, of course, this idiot girl was even right in what she saw in the first place! But if you fail to get through to them, well then, I shall just have to take matters into my own hands.’

  They all gathered around Edela, waiting to hear about her dream but she was more interested in breakfast. Her stomach was gurgling expectantly, and she hoped that Biddy would not burn her hotcakes.

  ‘I dreamed of the elderman,’ Edela said, at last, realising that no one would move until she revealed what she had seen. ‘He is locked in his chamber.’

  ‘He’s alive, then?’ Jael asked.

  Edela nodded. ‘He is. But he does not believe that he will live much longer. That strange man, Gerod? He comes to him every day to threaten his life. And he means to take it. Along with ours.’

  Branwyn swallowed. ‘The elderman may be alive, Mother, but how does that help us?’

  ‘Because I saw something, my dear,’ Edela said patiently. ‘Something I had completely overlooked when I was in his chamber. There is another door.’

  ‘Two doors?’ Jael had been so focused on speaking to Marcus that she had not noticed another door either.

  ‘Yes, there is a room through a little alcove. He keeps his books in there. His chest. And hidden behind a curtain is another door. And that door leads to a corridor which goes directly to the kitchen.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jael smiled. ‘That was a good dream to have, Grandmother.’

  Aleksander felt almost refreshed when he woke up. It was the first time he had slept through the night in longer than he could remember. A night where he had not had to keep watch; where the pain in his shoulder had not kept him awake; where he had not been disturbed by strange dreams.

  And yet, despite a lack of exhaustion, he felt a growing sense of discomfort. The Widow had come to him and warned him of the danger that Jael was in, but it felt as though he had been wading through mud to try and reach her ever since.

  He feared that they were going to be too late.

  The ravens. The wolves.

  The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach kept growing.

  ‘Ready?’ Gant wondered, cracking his neck as he stopped before the fire. They had been up before dawn, eager to get back on the road. ‘Looks as though we might actually have a fine day ahead. That should help us get to Tuura by dusk I’d say.’

  Aleksander looked hopeful, then frowned. ‘But what will we do when we get there?’

  Gant laughed, motioning to the men who were preparing themselves for another march: dousing fires, packing saddlebags, wrapping belts around their waists. ‘I say we knock on the gates and ask to come in. Politely, of course,’ he grinned. ‘We Brekkans are known for our exceptionally good manners.’

  ‘Well, I suppose we do have one or two men. It might make them more inclined to let us in. Or less.’

  Gant kicked dirt across the nearby fire. ‘I keep imagining what Ranuf would do. And it would not be subtle. If Gisila or Jael were in danger, he would burn the whole place down.’ Gant dropped his head. Memories of Tuura were stirring, and they were never pleasant. ‘So, we get there as fast as we can, find out how the land lies, and then we act. Maybe, just maybe, this dreamer of yours was wrong.’

  Aleksander rolled his shoulder and reached for the reins, hoping more than anything that she was wrong.

  ‘Let’s get moving!’ Gant bellowed, nodding at Axl, who was being helped onto his horse. ‘We can be at Tuura before nightfall if we make a start now!’

  Hest’s sprawling marketplace quickly overwhelmed her senses, and Hanna’s nervousness was swept away on building waves of colour and noise as the merchants rushed past her, setting up their stalls for the day.

  She bought a sausage and a couple of wild plums, becaus
e although she was too uptight to feel hungry, she needed to keep alert, and food would surely help.

  It was going to be a long day.

  As Hanna wandered around the markets, squeezing between the aggressive merchants, resisting their offers, she noticed children darting in and around the stalls, stealing cakes, chasing one other, getting into trouble. Most were filthy, dressed in torn clothing. None wore shoes.

  All of them looked hungry.

  She followed one boy who had slipped an apple up his tunic and run off quickly, keeping one eye on her.

  ‘Wait!’ Hanna called. ‘Wait! I just want to talk to you!’

  The light-haired boy slowed down. He looked about eight, maybe older. He was small and wary of her, with big, brown eyes that never stopped moving, checking if she was alone.

  Hanna had one hand out as she approached. ‘Please, I just want to talk to you.’

  ‘About what?’ he asked quickly, ready to run if she got close enough to snatch him.

  ‘I’m looking to pay someone to help me deliver a message.’

  He frowned. ‘Pay with what?’

  Hanna reached into her purse and pulled out a large, gold coin, gripping it tightly.

  The boy raised his eyebrows, unable to mask the glint in his eye at such a treasure. A gold coin? He could feed his family for a year or more on that. More, much more, he was sure. He edged towards Hanna, wondering if it was a trap, but too eager not to want to try and see if, perhaps, it wasn’t. ‘Who do you want to get a message to?’ he asked.

  Hanna glanced around, feeling exposed. ‘Come with me,’ she said quietly, nodding towards an archway up ahead. ‘We can go somewhere more private.’

  The boy flinched, digging his toes into his hole-ridden boots. ‘No! You tell me here. I’m not going anywhere with you!’

  Hanna sighed. She didn’t blame him. Why should he trust her? ‘Alright,’ she said softly. ‘But let me whisper it in your ear. I don’t want anyone to hear me.’ Slipping the gold coin back into her purse, she took out two symbol stones and reached out a hand, hoping he would stay.

  He shrugged, standing his ground, resisting the urge to run. He wanted that coin, and she didn’t have a mean looking face.

  Hanna crept closer, until she was standing near him. She bent down, placing the stones in his hand, whispering in his ear. ‘I want you to find Berard Dragos and give him one of these stones, then tell him that Jael Furyck has sent him a message. He needs to meet me to hear it. It’s urgent. Make him understand that. He must tell no one. And make sure you tell him to keep the stone. It stops dreamers from hearing or seeing what he does.’ Hanna peered at the boy, whose eyes were wide, his head nodding. She worried that she had told him too much to remember. ‘Do you understand?’

  He kept nodding.

  ‘Tell him to meet me here. In there.’ Hanna pointed to the archway. She had walked around the marketplace a few times now, and it was the most private area she had found. She would have to spend the day there, waiting, hoping that he would come.

  ‘I’ll tell him. I’ll find you for my coin,’ the boy said impatiently, jiggling on the spot, eager to leave.

  ‘Only if he comes,’ Hanna warned. ‘Make sure he comes. And bring back my other stone. Then you will get your coin.’

  But the boy had already run off, winding his way through the merchants like a tiny snake. She looked after him with a frown, not knowing if he’d ever come back.

  Morana had brought her to the Crown of Stones.

  Meena hated this place, where the black-robed Followers hid their faces and danced in time to mysterious, languid rhythms that only they could hear. They brought fresh blood and herbs, old bones and stones. They painted symbols, killed animals, caused mayhem, cast spells.

  And Morana was preparing to do it all again.

  Tonight.

  Meena stumbled around the circle, wanting to crawl away from her aunt. Morana was busy running through how the ritual would go, making sure that she had thought of everything they would need. She had not noticed Meena in some time. If she were to just slip through the stones...

  ‘You!’ Morana growled as Meena staggered to a halt. ‘You have my basket?’

  Meena tapped her head, shuffling towards her aunt.

  Morana dug into the basket. ‘We are going to cleanse the circle,’ she said firmly. ‘I want everything ready. Everything must be perfect for tonight.’ She pulled out a switch of witch hazel and handed it to Meena. ‘You will get on your hands and knees and sweep the circle clean. Carefully. I will lay out the stones.’

  Meena took the switch and placed the basket on the ground, looking up at the sky as the rain came bucketing down. Dropping to her knees in the dirt, she started sweeping.

  Berard walked down the castle steps, his head pounding, eager for a swim, despite the rain. It was a humid morning, and he was determined to escape before Karsten pounced on him again. He was leaving tomorrow, but he wanted to run away from all that saying goodbye would mean.

  From having to face Jaeger entirely.

  Karsten had suggested a number of ways that he could steal Meena away from Jaeger, but for every idea he considered, Berard quickly found a reason why it would fail.

  Jaeger was not the brother he knew, and at every turn, he felt the terror of being crushed by him. He worried about what that would mean for Meena, if she tried to leave and he failed her.

  His shoulders were curled, and the line between his soft grey-blue eyes was deepening with every step. He heard the familiar, frantic hum of the marketplace and turned his head. In his hurry to leave the castle, he had not thought of breakfast. Breakfast would mean his mother and father, Karsten, possibly Jaeger.

  He had just wanted to avoid them all.

  Sighing, Berard ignored the growling protest of his empty belly and headed across the square, deciding that he would eat after his swim.

  ‘My lord!’

  Berard looked around in surprise as a small boy ran towards him. He did not turn away, but nor did he look eager to linger. There were always beggars hanging around the markets, often children, who pleaded for food or wine or coins. It was hard to say no. Mostly, he didn’t. ‘Yes?’ he asked impatiently. The boy was very thin. Berard felt bad for him.

  The boy’s big eyes ferreted around expertly. He motioned for Berard to bend towards him, then placed a stone in his palm. ‘For you. From a lady. She wants you to come. To meet her.’

  Berard stepped back, staring at his hand, confused. ‘A lady?’ He wrapped his fingers around the stone and looked around. ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t know, my lord,’ the boy admitted. ‘She said,’ he lowered his voice, ‘that Jael Furyck sent her with a message. That it was important. For you to have the stone to keep away the dreamers.’

  Berard’s own eyes were wide now. ‘Jael?’ He slipped the stone into his pouch and scratched at his beard. ‘Where?’

  The boy took off, motioning for him to follow, and Berard, with one quick look at the castle, scuttled off after him, heading towards the marketplace.

  42

  Jaeger had had enough now.

  He strode up to Morana’s chamber and hammered on the door, but no one came. In the end, he forced it open and searched the dingy, foul-smelling room, further annoyed to find that Meena wasn’t there.

  He thought of Yorik.

  Perhaps he would know what Morana had done with her?

  The boy ran fast, and Berard panted as he tried to keep up with him, desperate not to lose him in the maze of merchants and stalls.

  Eventually, he came to a halt as the boy stopped, pointed to an archway and disappeared back amongst the crowd.

  Berard paused, suddenly wary. That archway led to nowhere, he knew, just a dark, dead end. He took a deep breath and walked under it anyway, his eyes widening as a young woman stepped into the light.

  ‘Hello,’ she said quietly. ‘Are you Berard? Do you have the stone?’

  He glanced behind himself, then nodded. ‘Who are
you?’

  ‘My name is Hanna. Jael Furyck sent me.’

  Berard hurried forwards, gripping her elbow, leading her further into the darkness, towards a stone bench; eager to be as far away from prying eyes as possible. He indicated for her to sit, the whites of his eyes bright in the shadows. ‘Why? Why has she sent you here?’

  There were many ways that Hanna had thought about beginning, but she was so nervous that she simply blurted out, ‘Jael wants you to take the Book of Darkness from your brother!’

  ‘What?’ Berard sat down, dazed. ‘What are you talking about? How could she...’ He trailed off, his mouth hanging open in confusion.

  ‘We know he has it,’ Hanna went on. ‘Jael is a dreamer. Her grandmother has seen it too. The book is more dangerous than you know. Your brother and Morana... they have been trying to hurt people. In Tuura they have already caused a lot of harm. People have died.’

  Berard didn’t know what to think. ‘How do I even know that Jael sent you? And why should I listen to anything she says anyway? She murdered her uncle! Destroyed our ships!’

  ‘Jael didn’t kill her uncle, her brother did. He found Lothar beating his mother. They just wanted to leave before the body was found. And she has had a dream about you.’

  Berard sat up straight. ‘She has?’

  ‘She says that you’re in grave danger. You should come with me, Berard. Get the book and come with me. I have a ship.’

  ‘But I’m leaving. Tomorrow.’

  ‘Leaving for where?’

  Berard dropped his eyes to his lap, trying to think. ‘I... the book... it is changing my brother. Has changed him,’ he admitted, looking up. ‘He is not the same.’

  Hanna felt impatient, but even in the shadows, she could see Berard’s pain. ‘The book steals souls. The souls give the spells more power. A person without a soul is no longer a person. If your brother spends his time near the book, it would make sense that you’re losing him.’