Black Moon Draw

by Lizzy Ford

  I feel the troll’s first blow; its force ricochets through the Shadow Knight into me, and my head snaps back. I right myself the best I can in the tornado conditions of the battle when suddenly, I’m torn out of his arms and flying through the air.

  Too shocked to scream, I open my eyes and stare down at the roof, a good twenty feet beneath me and closing fast. The troll and knight are deep in battle. I don’t know which one flung me, but I’m falling fast towards the both of them and I have no second thought about who the worst off is about to become.

  Guess we’ll find out if I really am invincible in this world.

  Covering my head, I don’t have time for my life to flash before my eyes. I brace myself for a very rough landing.

  Something winds around my wrist and snatches me out of the air. The Shadow Knight’s whip breaks and then stops my fall.

  Gasping, disoriented, I flinch as I bump lightly against the cool stone of the hold’s wall, not quite understanding what happened.

  “Quickly. Climb.” The Shadow Knight is wrapping the whip around his hand, winding me up. I’m dangling over the edge of the roof. He’s on his belly, the axe in one hand.

  My senses catch up with me. The troll is screaming. My arm and chest are wet with warm blood. I don’t have time to figure out where I’m hit. My whole system is trying to right itself after the speed of the past few moments. I look down my body, unable to identify any injury in the grainy dawn light.

  I’m a good hundred feet off the ground, though, far enough that a fall is probably going to kill me good.

  “Climb, witch,” he says with some sign of strain.

  My focus shifts to the boar head peering over the roof at me. Four feet divide us. At this rate, he’s going to be chopped to bits before he manages to pull me up. There’s a rock sinking into my stomach, and I catch the glimmer of a torch against the raised sword of the troll above him, ready to chop off his head the same way the Desert Knight did his ancestor a thousand of years ago.

  “He’s right there!” I cry. “Turn and fight!”

  “Come on, witch!”

  If he saves me, he dies.

  But if I fall, we both have a chance to live. Looking down, there’s no part of me that wants to test the theory I’m invincible.

  The image of his ancestor being beheaded stirs a deeper emotion, the memory of the woman who lost her love that day a thousand years ago. I can barely sort my thoughts out about the sexy man trying to haul me onto the roof instead of protecting his head, but I don’t want him to suffer the same fate. It seems . . . unfair for his story to end here. He’s the underdog trying to save the world, the last in a line of mighty warriors, the man most likely to need a second shot at some sort of redemption after all the death and destruction he’s caused.

  I don’t want him to die. The singular thought overrides my fear. Not for any of those reasons – but because I like him. More than I should.

  If I truly am invincible in this world, the fall will either kill me or send me home, and it’ll save his life so he can go on and save the world.

  My chest constricts so fast, I can’t breathe. The next handful of seconds happens as if in slow motion. The medallion grows super hot and sends a charge of electricity through me, similar to the one I experienced on the battlefield. Purple electricity arcs and shoots through the Shadow Knight as well.

  He jerks without letting go. Whether or not I should, I brace one foot against the wall and yank free.

  I fall. Air rushes by me. I have the sense of free flying for a short time before terror consumes me.

  This is gonna hurt.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You survived your trial.”

  I sit up. I’m neither falling nor splattered in a million pieces.

  I’m back at the bridge where Panther-man and the Red Knight found me. I clamber to my feet.

  “Omigod. Is it over? Can I go home?” I ask, wringing my hands. I search my surroundings frantically for a door back to my world.

  A woman laughs.

  I turn, recognizing her. Any hope of this being a trip home smashes to the ground. The long dead warrior queen of Black Moon Draw is petite, with an exotic tilt to her brown eyes and skin the color of honey. She wears a crown on her head, a simple, elegant string of gems with one of them dangling down her forehead.

  “This is a dream,” I whisper. I’m in the dress I woke up in when this nightmare started, standing in the knee-high grasses.

  This time, there’s no fog on the Black Moon Draw side of the bridge, and the trees’ branches overflow with green leaves. The forest is alive. It’s a beautiful, sunny, clear, warm morning. Birds sing happily in the forest nearby and the scent of flowers is thick upon a light breeze.

  “It is,” the warrior queen of Black Moon Draw confirms. “This is where I came through, too.”

  I frown. “If this is a dream, then . . . are you real? Because I’m really confused about what’s going on right now.”

  “The battle-witches leave each other messages in the form of dreams, the ultimate way to pass a secret with no one finding out. My creation,” she says proudly. “When I was little, my parents took me to Disneyland, and I swear I dreamt of that place for a year after. It seemed so real . . . I thought it was a really good way to ensure certain messages were passed down to women like us.”

  “Women from the real world.”

  “Every book is its own world. They’re all real, if you believe in them.”

  “No. I can’t handle that.”

  “You’ll understand,” she says gently.

  “Is there a way home?”

  “You gave your life for the Shadow Knight and want to go home?” she asks curiously. “You don’t love him?”

  “Love him?” I laugh. I can’t help the heat in my cheeks or the way my heart skipped a beat at the thought. To know the love of a man that fierce and protective . . . I shake my head. “I barely know him and he despises me. Says I’m the worst battle-witch he’s ever heard of. He’s also engaged to another woman. I figure I’m invincible so why not swan dive off a fortress if it helps him?” Is she buying it? I’m not sure I am. No matter what my body says and the way I’m drawn to him, there can be nothing between us. It’s simply impossible.

  “It takes some time.” The warrior queen smiles. She doesn’t seem discouraged or disappointed.

  “You drank the Kool-Aid, didn’t you?”

  “Hindsight.” She winks. “You see things differently through the rearview mirror than when you’re in the middle of the road.”

  Ugh. This isn’t going the way I want, even for a dream. “So what’s the secret, if not a way home?”

  “Every battle-witch for a thousand years has contributed part of her magic to that medallion, the Heart.” Her gaze goes to my chest, where the worn necklace hangs. “Its power is beyond anything you can imagine. A thousand years of magic, all lying dormant.”

  “Is it going to electrocute me?” I ask, lifting it uncertainly from my chest.

  “It can do much more than that. But as my successor, it’s yours to control.”

  “A little birdy told me the Heart is what everyone’s after. Ohhhhh now I get it.” That’s why the messengers are birds. The subtle cliché hits me, and I applaud LF for once instead of cursing her.

  “It is. But it’s not what you think.”

  “Care to explain?”

  “The Shadow Knight is the last of his bloodline. If he dies, so does the magic. My curse did more than I intended. The medallion, the Heart, is all that keeps the fogs of Black Moon Draw from devouring their world. I condemned everyone, even those I was trying to avenge.” Her voice grows soft.

  “So if he dies, the magic dies, and their entire world goes with him. If the era ends, and he fails, their world ends.”

  She nods. “And if the Heart falls into the wrong hands, it, too, has the power to end their world.” As she speaks she approaches and picks up the medallion off my chest. Her whole face lights up.r />
  “Triple whammy. That’s quite a curse.”

  She nods. Her eyes are filling with tears. They aren’t sad ones – but happy tears, if the joy on her face is any indication.

  “Why is it called a Heart?” I ask.

  She swipes at her tears and lowers the medallion, stepping away. “’Twas the nickname my husband gave me. I was his heart, his love, his queen. This was fashioned as a wedding present. Magic molded this gem, but our love gave it power.”

  “Wow. That’s insanely romantic,” I murmur enviously. “And you used the magic to destroy the world. Kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

  She laughs. “That’s why you’re here! You can fix it.”

  I shift feet, not really liking where the conversation is headed. It sounds like she expects me to stay here instead of leave like I want. “How?” I venture tentatively.

  “You have to keep him from dying.”

  “He’s a lot better at this battle thing than I am.” I point out.

  “You have the magic of an entire world, one that’s depending on you.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “You did not invite me here for me to fix the world. That’s absurd.”

  “How often are we given a chance to make a difference?” she challenges. “My life before Black Moon Draw was miserable! I hated my job, my life, the fact I didn’t matter to the man I thought I loved. I was dead inside.”

  Her story sounds too familiar. My hands are growing clammy, my pulse quickening.

  “I wanted it to change, and it did. You wouldn’t be here, if you weren’t looking for something else. Something bigger than you. A reason to matter, a way to make a difference and feel alive for once.”

  “You think I asked for this?”

  “I did. Maybe you did, too.”

  “That’s impossible. I. . .” was drunk. I have no idea what I might’ve wished for, but I know I was desperate, heartbroken, and miserable. “But you . . . you got chopped down, along with your husband,” I manage. “How is that living?”

  “Those few short months meant more to me than the rest of my life up until that point. I would’ve rather had my Shadow Knight as a husband for an hour than never at all.”

  There’s a lump forming in my throat. As in the previous dream where I saw her die, I envy the depth of her emotion and conviction. I’ve never let myself feel so passionately about anything in my life, and it tugs on the part of me that thinks she makes more sense than my parents and the guidance counselors in college combined.

  She had a man who loved her inside and out for half a day before they both died, and I’m envious of those short hours. It’s crazy.

  Clearing my throat, I look away. “So he’s the Hero of this book.”

  “Maybe.” Her intensity eases and she cracks another infectious smile. “Or maybe you’re the Hero and this is your story. You wanted a journey and a chance to live a better life. This is it.”

  That can’t be. I started reading this book online before it sucked me in. It’s definitely not the kind of place I’d choose to go for a new start.

  For reasons I can’t understand or accept, I might be destined to be here. The thought is nauseating . . . exhilarating . . . beyond belief.

  “You could spend years with the man you love exploring the flower covered valleys of Gold Spur Sky or sail the dark seas of Black Moon Draw. This is your world, your home, your fate,” she adds.

  “No! There must be a way home.” The last of my resistance, driven by the frantic idea of never going to another Starbucks or seeing my mother again, is in its last, desperate throes.

  “Trust me. There’s not.”

  “There was a way here!” I cry and begin looking around wildly again. “I want to see my mother again and my cats!”

  “Before you have a panic attack, let me tell you a couple of things,” she continues. “First, the Heart is unlocked. You had to pass a trial first and give your life for the Shadow Knight before its magic would be accessible to you. There is a way to visit your home but not return permanently, but you’ll have to dig up my old diary, if it exists after a thousand years.”

  She’s managed to deflate my concerns with the simple explanation. But the idea I’m meant to fall in love with the Shadow Knight? “I told you. I didn’t give my life for him. I just . . . figured this made more sense!” I struggle with an explanation, realizing my actions hadn’t necessarily been logical. I feared for his life and don’t want to admit what that might mean – that some part of me cares enough about him to throw myself off a building. “I can’t stand the sight of blood and I’m definitely not in love with him. Why do you think I’m the right person for this job at all?”

  “Because you didn’t jump at the idea of visiting your home.”

  Son of a bitch. My jaw goes slack. She’s right. I heard the words without being seized by the urgency I experienced when I first arrived to Black Moon Draw.

  “You have a reason to stay, and some part of you knows that,” she adds.

  Sure, I’m attracted to the Shadow Knight, and I really do think he’s a noble – if barbaric – man with a cause that makes my pitiful life before Black Moon Draw appear even more meaningless.

  Is she right? Do I secretly want to stay? “So there is a way home?”

  “No. I was testing you.”

  “Oh.” I’m not sure I like this woman anymore or the trickle of relief I experience knowing I don’t have to choose whether to save a kingdom – and its sexy ruler – or go back to my boring life.

  “Second, keep him alive,” she goes on, unaware of my inner turmoil. “The Desert Knight is his biggest threat. He must defeat the kingdoms and then face the curse with you at his side. The curse should lift, once the past has been righted. I don’t want you to watch him die the way I saw my husband fall. You can do better than I did. You won’t fail.”

  That jars me, along with the sorrow of her tone. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for you helping me out,” I say. “He’s sexier than any other man in any world I’ve been forced to enter, yes, but there can be nothing between us. And I can’t . . . fathom the idea of this story being created for me. I can’t be the Heroine.”

  “I was in denial for a while, too.”

  My head is about to explode. I take a deep breath. “Look, I’ve never been special. Or lucky. Or even really good at anything. I’m a nobody. Heroes are somebodies. They’re brave and noble and . . .” I sigh. “They’re not me. My own family thinks I’m a loser! How can this whole world exist for me?”

  “Heroes are normal people who do extraordinary things,” she replies. “Not always because they choose to and rarely because they want to. But you know what? When it matters, they take a step they never thought they’d take.”

  I’m losing an argument with a dead woman. The thin veneer of denial preventing me from becoming completely submerged in this new world is also dissipating.

  “There’s another thing.” I’m grasping at anything to remain afloat. “He’s kind of a mass-murderer. Why would any Hero anywhere find him worth saving?”

  “Really? That’s the best you can do? You know why he fights.” She laughs.

  “Yes.” I clamp my mouth shut. Deep down, I acknowledge that he hasn’t been the monster I thought he was since he told me what’s at stake.

  I’m drowning. Breathing gets harder and my dream ripples as if someone tossed a stone into the middle of it.

  “Oh, to activate the medallion, you need to –”

  She’s gone, along with the dream and whatever secret she meant to leave me with.

  I’m getting sick of learning pieces of the puzzle without being able to see the full picture.

  My eyelids open to reveal the stone ceiling of a hold. Or castle. Fortress. Whatever it is. I’m just happy I’m inside. I can’t imagine we’re still at the Red Knight’s, but I also don’t think I was in any shape to be moved. At least I’m neither achy nor hurting when I wake up this time.

  “You live.”


  Couldn’t give me a moment to myself, could you? I roll my head to see the Shadow Knight and my eyebrows shoot up.

  His nose is crooked, one eye black and his cheekbones bruised. Despite this, his rugged, chiseled, masculine features become more compelling every time I see him. From the beard growth along his jaw to the intent way he looks at me to his muscular body, I can’t get over how incredibly good looking this man is.

  “In better shape than you,” I reply, unable to resist the dig after he yelled at me on the roof. I sit up. I feel really good, possibly the result of the magical medallion and my natural resiliency to death and dismemberment here.

  “You gave your life for me. I will allow your sharp tongue.”

  Rolling my eyes, I start to protest.

  He thrusts a mug of something at me. I sniff at it. It smells like tea. I shift to drink without spilling and notice I’m not wearing the dress I had on when I fell. I’m in a nightgown again.

  “Where are my clothes?” I ask a little self-consciously.

  “You were in too many pieces to stich it together.”

  I lower the mug. “Oh. That sounds horrible.”

  He nods. Accustomed to blood, the Shadow Knight is unconcerned, but I can’t help feeling a little rattled about being dead. His multi-hued eyes are on mine, his thick body clothed in leather pants and a tunic.

  I don’t like the way he’s watching me, the way lionesses hunt gazelles on those nature shows on the television.

  “Where are your weapons?” I ask, gaze lingering on the outline of his shapely thighs, visible through the snug pants.

  “The gaoler did not allow me to keep them.”

  “We’re in jail?” The room resembles a bedchamber. Although I notice the room is round, like we’re in some sort of prison tower from a fairytale. “So you didn’t defeat the troll and Knights?”

  “I beheaded the troll at great cost. The Red Knight brokered a peace. It was necessary to save your life.” The Shadow Knight’s answer is clipped. “And we are here.”

  He’s not telling me something. The instinct that wants me to go home and resume my pitiful, miserable life digs in its heels.