Moon

by Aaron Ehasz

  Somehow this caught Rayla off guard. “But Runaan …” Rayla had trained all her life to be an assassin. How dare he write her off as a mere child!

  The other elves protested too.

  “You must kill her!” someone shouted, and the others joined in with certainty.

  “Rayla,” Runaan said, “your punishment will be a child’s punishment. You’re off the mission. Go home to Xadia and play with the other children.”

  “Runaan, she can’t be trusted,” an elf said. “It’s not just a matter of punishment; it’s a matter of precision. She’s a danger to us all.”

  Rayla felt tears well in her eyes. She’d never meant to betray the others.

  “She has to die!”

  “Please, Runaan!” Rayla shouted. “My heart for Xadia!” A sob escaped her lips.

  Runaan stared into Rayla’s eyes, unblinking, as the other elves jeered and yelled, pushing him to take action. Finally, Runaan roared at Rayla with the ferocity of a lion. She had never seen him so fierce, so terrifying.

  She turned and bolted into the woods.

  Rayla came to a stop near a tall oak tree. She didn’t know how long she’d been running, only that she had never run that far or fast before.

  “I’m sorry, Runaan,” Rayla said to the forest. “I am so, so sorry.”

  She sank down against the tree, closed her eyes, and let the tears flow like she’d let her feet run.

  When she had no more tears, she pulled herself up and took in her surroundings. The sun would soon set; the assassins would approach the castle, to a certain ambush by the castle army. Because of her, the mission would cost them their lives.

  Unless …

  Rayla wiped her face with the back of her hand and scrambled on top of a craggy rock. She could just make out the castle in the distance.

  Runaan himself had said she was the fastest of the assassins. No one could soar across the forest like she could.

  “I can fix this,” Rayla said.

  She straightened her shoulders and bowed her head. Then she leaped off the rock and ran headlong toward the destiny she had chosen.

  Callum still couldn’t believe what he’d overheard Viren say. He’d packed his things quickly but was now frantically pacing the halls trying to calm himself down. Was it possible he had misunderstood?

  But the assassination threat explained why King Harrow was sending the princes off to the Banther Lodge in the middle of spring. It must be true. There really were skilled assassins coming for the king. For Callum’s stepdad.

  Suddenly, Callum realized there was no way he could go to the lodge. So what if he was a skinny kid who could barely swing a sword? Every single body standing in front of the king would offer some protection. And he wasn’t a baby anymore—he was nearly fifteen years old and that was old enough to fight. Certainly, he was too old to run away with his little brother and cower in the lodge building “dirtmen.”

  “I have to be brave,” Callum whispered to himself. “For the king, and for my brother.”

  But what about Ezran? Callum had a feeling he would refuse to go to the Banther Lodge without his big brother.

  Of course. That must be why King Harrow was sending them both away. Even though Ezran would be surrounded by dozens of guards at the lodge, the king would want Callum along to make his little brother feel safe. There was no other reason for King Harrow to send Callum. Except … except that maybe the king was trying to protect Callum too.

  Callum was starting to see the sense in the king’s plan. The king would be better able to focus if he knew the boys were safe. And the crown guard was strong, certainly strong enough to have a fighting chance against a small group of elves.

  At the end of the hallway Callum knocked on the door to Ezran’s room.

  “Come on, Ez! Let’s get moving, no time to waste,” he yelled out. “It’s almost sundown.”

  There was no response.

  Callum got down on his knees and tapped open Bait’s miniature glow toad door. (King Harrow had insisted on building the tiny door himself, though the royal carpenter had secretly made a few subtle adjustments.) Callum peeked through the opening into Ezran’s bedroom.

  But Ezran’s room was empty. His traveling bag was lying on the floor, not yet packed.

  “NO!” Callum pounded his fist on the door in frustration. Of course Ezran wasn’t taking the trip seriously. He was probably still chatting with birds in the palace gardens.

  But then the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up; he felt the presence of someone behind him.

  “I’m so glad you’re back, Ez!” Callum said, standing up.

  “Ahem. Prince Callum.”

  Callum found himself facing the shoulder plates of an enormous, serious-looking guard. “Um, yeah, that’s me,” Callum said. “What’s going on?”

  “King Harrow would like to see you again,” the guard said.

  “Again? What for?” Callum asked.

  “I do not know, sir. I am just the messenger.”

  “Did he seem like maybe he was, I don’t know, mad at me about something?”

  “He did not.”

  Callum was relieved. “Okay, great.”

  “That said,” the messenger continued, “he’s usually very even-tempered with me, always very appropriate. So he certainly could be reserving his anger until he sees you in person.”

  Callum gulped. Could King Harrow have already figured out that Callum lost his little brother?

  “You wanted to see me?” Callum asked. He poked his head tentatively into the throne room, then slid the rest of his body through the ten-inch space he’d made between the doors. The great doors slammed shut behind him.

  King Harrow turned. Worry lines creased his face.

  “Prince Callum,” he said gravely.

  Callum trudged the length of the red carpet toward his stepfather.

  “My King,” Callum said, and made a short, formal bow.

  King Harrow seemed suddenly uncomfortable. He reached his hand out in a hesitant but reassuring manner.

  “No … please relax, Callum. I didn’t mean for this to be so formal,” he said.

  “Okay,” Callum said. But he stood with his back as straight and stiff as ever.

  The king looked up at the vaulted ceilings and paused. Then he looked into Callum’s eyes and smiled.

  “Callum, I know I’m not your birth father, but I’ve always wanted you to feel comfortable around me. We are family. I want you to know that …” The king took a deep breath, his brow furrowed. “Forgive me. This isn’t easy to say. So, the most important things I’ve written down.”

  From deep within his royal robes the king withdrew a parchment scroll and handed it to Callum. Callum turned the scroll over carefully. It was stamped with the official red wax seal of the King of Katolis.

  “A letter for me?” Callum asked.

  “Yes, it’s a letter for you—and for your eyes only. You’ll understand in time. I want you to break the seal when … Well, you’ll know when.”

  “When you’re dead,” Callum burst out. “You think I don’t know what’s going on?”

  King Harrow took a step back, his jaw slack with surprise.

  “I heard about the assassins,” Callum said.

  The king bent down to look Callum in the eyes and put his hands on his stepson’s shoulders. “War is full of uncertainty, Callum,” he said softly. “I hope you won’t have to open this letter, but we must be prepared.”

  “Why can’t you just do something to stop the elves?” Callum asked, close to tears. “Can’t you just make peace with them? You’re the king.”

  “It’s not that simple,” King Harrow said.

  “It seems pretty simple to me,” Callum said, his frustration building. “The elves want to live. We want to live. Everyone agrees on at least one important point.”

  The king smiled. After all, his stepson was correct. “There are centuries of history, generations of wrongs and crimes on both sides. I know
you don’t want to believe it, Callum, but I’m responsible for some of those wrongs. And they cannot just be forgotten.”

  Callum stepped back. It was hard to imagine his warm, doting stepfather committing unforgivable acts, but here he was admitting to the unthinkable. What, exactly, had he done?

  Callum desperately wanted to reassure the king, whose shoulders bore the burden of whatever past choices he had made. But how could he tell this man, a king, that it was time to move on?

  “I’ve done terrible things,” King Harrow said. “I thought they were necessary at the time. But now I have many regrets.”

  “There has to be a way to make it right,” Callum said. “Maybe you shouldn’t focus so much on the past. Maybe the humans and the elves can find a way to move forward together.”

  “I admire your youthful optimism,” King Harrow said. “But it’s too late. What is done cannot be undone.”

  “You’re the king!” Callum pleaded. “You can do or undo anything!”

  Harrow chuckled bitterly. “The great illusion of childhood is that adults have all the power and freedom. But the truth is the opposite. A child is freer than a king.”

  Callum gave his stepfather a skeptical stare, but he knew King Harrow was the most stubborn king in the history of Katolis. If he believed he deserved some terrible fate, there was no changing his mind. Callum looked down at the scroll.

  “I’m going to give this back to you this weekend, okay?” he said. “I’m not going to have to open this.” He searched his stepfather’s face for a sign that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he would live through this night and everything would go back to normal.

  But King Harrow shook his head stoically. “Take care of your brother, Callum,” he said and turned away.

  Callum knew this was his cue to leave. He trudged toward the doors wondering if this was the last time he’d see the only parent he had left.

  From the moment King Harrow had married Callum’s mom, he had raised Callum as his own son. And yet … Callum had never told him he loved him. He’d never called him “Dad” or even “Stepdad.” The closer he got to the door, the more Callum’s insides crumbled.

  Don’t cry, don’t cry, he told himself. He couldn’t cry here in the throne room; he had to show the king he was brave and strong. He paused before the door to collect himself. Don’t look back, don’t cry.

  Suddenly, Callum felt the king’s strong arms wrap around him. He shut his eyes and let his whole body relax into the embrace. A sob escaped his mouth. Warm tears were sliding down the king’s face too.

  Callum wrapped his own arms around King Harrow and squeezed tightly. He had to make this count.

  When he looked up, he caught Viren standing awkwardly in the corner of the room. Harrow noticed him too.

  “Uh, can I help you? That’s a little creepy, Viren,” King Harrow said. He let go of Callum.

  Viren was clutching an intricately woven basket, a bunch of soldiers behind him.

  “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt your, uh, familial clasp,” Viren said.

  “It’s called a hug, Viren,” King Harrow said. Viren could be awkward sometimes.

  “Yes, of course. My children and I do those as well. When the occasion calls for it,” Viren said.

  “Right. Well, I see you’ve brought me something,” Harrow said, pointing at the basket. “Not a great day for a picnic, Viren.”

  “On that we agree,” replied the high mage, raising his black, slanted eyebrows.

  “Don’t worry, I was just leaving,” Callum said. He glanced back at King Harrow and caught one last, loving look before he slipped out through the door.

  Viren waited pointedly for Callum to exit before he began to speak. “Soren and the others have returned to bolster your defenses,” Viren told the king. “But the elves have eluded us. We will not find them by sundown.”

  “I’m afraid our forces won’t be enough,” King Harrow said, staring out the window. “I’ve accepted that tonight I may pay the price for our mistakes. The elves are flawless assassins. Once the moon is up, nothing will stop them.”

  “It’s true, My King, Moonshadow elves are dangerous, elite fighters. Under a full moon, they’ll become nearly invisible and able to penetrate any defense,” Viren said. He placed his hand on the king’s shoulder. “But don’t give up just yet.” He patted the wicker basket. Inside, something hissed and wriggled. “Claudia and I have come up with a, uh, creative solution.”

  King Harrow’s eyes narrowed; he seemed unwilling to look in Viren’s direction. “Call it what it is, Viren,” he said. “Dark magic.”

  Viren stepped back, surprised at the venom in King Harrow’s voice. “Yes.”

  “I’ve spent years going along with these ‘creative solutions’ of yours. And where has it gotten me?”

  “I don’t understand your hesitance,” Viren said.

  “I know you don’t,” the king said.

  Viren thought fast. “Of course there have been tragedies and sacrifices over the years, but we never did anything that wasn’t necessary. We secured the kingdom. And we saved many lives. On that note, there may be a way out of this situation we find ourselves facing tonight. Would you just hear me out?”

  King Harrow remained silent.

  “You are right about one thing. Moonshadow elves will find you, and they will kill you. But it doesn’t have to be YOU.” Viren paused for dramatic effect.

  “Get on with it,” King Harrow said. “I haven’t got time for suspense.”

  Viren bristled, but continued. “In the black sands of the Midnight Desert there dwells a mysterious snake called the soulfang serpent.” He drummed his long fingers on the wriggling basket. “The soulfang has an unusual diet. Its bite consumes the spirit of its prey. On our last journey into Xadia, I acquired a rather unique specimen of this snake.”

  Viren placed the basket on the floor and with a flick of his staff, removed the top with delicate precision. The body of a snake, long, black, and leathery, wrapped around Viren’s staff. Viren held the staff at arm’s length, filled with cautious respect for the frightening creature. There were glimpses of a flicking red tongue and gnashing white fangs.

  Then, as it twisted about, the serpent revealed that it had not one but two heads growing out of a single body. The two-headed monster stared at King Harrow and rattled its tail. King Harrow took a step back.

  “Two heads, two bites, two souls held at once!” Viren said. “And, through magic, I can switch your spirit with another. The Moonshadow elves will find the king’s body, but your spirit will survive.” Viren smiled. Surely, King Harrow would see the wisdom in this maneuver, this clever trick.

  “No!” Harrow yelled. “I won’t hide in the body of another while someone else dies paying the price for my decisions!”

  Viren shook his head. The king could be so bullheaded. “That makes no sense, Harrow,” Viren said. “Hundreds of men and women are ready to fall protecting you tonight, but you won’t let one soldier sacrifice their life for you right now?”

  “It’s not the same,” King Harrow said. “I would rather die a king than live as a coward.”

  “So, this is just about your pride,” Viren said.

  “No, I already told you the problem, Viren.” King Harrow’s voice rose in anger. “It’s dark magic.”

  “Ohhhh. Yes, who wouldn’t have a problem with dark magic?” Viren sneered. “It’s clever, it’s brilliant, it’s practical. You are too stubborn to make use of the tools that are available to you. It will save your life, just as it has saved the lives of countless others.”

  “It’s a shortcut,” King Harrow snapped back. “We may not pay now, but we will pay the blood price eventually.”

  “Now you’re starting to sound like her,” Viren said with a smirk.

  King Harrow stiffened at the mention of Queen Sarai. Before her death, the queen had harbored abundant misgivings about dark magic.

  “Maybe I do sound like her,” he said. “But, so
what? Dark magic is dangerous. What do you think got us into this position?”

  “You’re not only bullheaded,” Viren continued, his voice rising, “you’re ungrateful.”

  “Should I be grateful that you destroyed that dragon’s egg?” King Harrow asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. He clasped his hands together in a mock prayer. “Thank you, Viren, for starting this unwinnable war. Thank you for angering the dragons and the elves so much that tonight they are here for my life!”

  But Viren just shook his head. The ends would justify the means. Why couldn’t the king understand that? “Destroying that egg saved our kingdom and maybe all of humanity,” he said.

  “It was just an egg!” King Harrow shouted.

  “And it would have become the most powerful creature in the world!” Viren barked, finally losing his cool.

  King Harrow seemed to realize he was getting nowhere. He sat down on a bench and dropped his head in his hands.

  “What is done cannot be undone,” Viren said. He lowered his tone in reconciliation. “I am offering you a path forward. Can’t you see that? I understand your discomfort. You don’t feel right trading your life for another’s. But know this, every one of these men and women would gladly trade their life to save yours.” Viren indicated to the group of soldiers standing a few feet away. The soldiers shifted uncomfortably, though there was truth in what Viren said.

  King Harrow picked his head up and scrutinized the high mage’s expression. “Would you gladly trade your life, Viren?”

  The question caught Viren off guard, and for once he was speechless. After a few long seconds of silence, he began to stutter an answer.

  “My K-King … I …”

  But it was too late.

  “Get out,” King Harrow said.

  This time, Viren knew the discussion was over. He stuffed the serpent back into the basket, bowed, and exited the room in silence.

  Callum left the throne room resolved to do King Harrow’s bidding. He would find Ezran and coax him to go to the Banther Lodge where they would both be safe. It wouldn’t be easy, but Ezran trusted him.