Black Moon Draw

by Lizzy Ford

  “Let me go,” I say hoarsely.

  “Do you not see?” the Red Knight asks, frowning. “When the Shadow Knight wins, he will have conquered all the realms. My brother-by-bonding will not take his father’s place; he understands why we are here and I will swear allegiance to any man if it prevents the death of my realm.”

  A trickle of hope creeps through me, followed by doubt as I recall what he asked me for, a way back to my world. “I can’t give you what you want.”

  “You will have a lifetime to find a way to do so.”

  I shake my head and test his grip. He’s not letting me go. “You don’t understand! The Shadow Knight dies in battle with the Desert Knight!”

  “How do you know? Have you magic?”

  “No. But . . .” How to explain I read it in a book before coming here? I gasp. “You know the person who sent me, the one you want to find?”

  He nods.

  “She declared it so before I came. It was in a message of sorts. At the final battle between the Shadow and Desert Knights, the Shadow Knight is mortally wounded.”

  The Red Knight’s chiseled features are hard to read. There’s concern in his gaze. “He must live to face the curse after defeating his enemies.”

  “I was supposed to do that,” I say, voice breaking. I clear my throat. “Before the medallion was destroyed.”

  “Sire!” Westley calls softly from the top of the stairs. “Come quickly!”

  “What? Is he hurt?” I demand.

  “Nay, witch. The Shadow Knight’s sword has broken.”

  I wrench away from the Red Knight and start running. Take me to him! I scream at the magic of the castle. Torches flicker and I trail them down a set of stairs and to a hallway wide enough for two buses to drive through. Two wide wooden doors lead into the banquet hall and I stop before them, pounding on one.

  “Open!” I give a frustrated yell.

  There’s a creak and then one of them obeys, deliberately swinging open towards me. I don’t wait for it and squeeze through the opening, running into the hall.

  I see neither of them and pause to listen for the sounds of swords. It, too, is gone.

  “Don’t mess with me!” I cry at the castle, eyes blurring with tears. My heart is near the point of combustion.

  A groan.

  Uncertain what I heard, I hold my breath, willing my thoughts quiet, too.

  It’s coming from the other side of the hall.

  Skirting the tables, I slow long enough at each break between rows to look between them.

  And then I see them. Both men are on the ground, blood pooling around their bodies.

  “Atreyu!” I gasp and dash towards him. Dropping to my knees, I don’t notice the blood that splashes up and instead, shakily reach to take his pulse.

  It’s there – but weak, shallow and slow.

  “You can’t leave me,” I whisper, gaze roving over his sculpted lips to the hard planes of his face and his dark hair. His scent is thick in the air. Leaning over him, I can smell our lovemaking on his skin. A pang of pure agony hits me hard in the gut. “Oh, god. Please, no!” I can’t lose him so soon after finding him!

  A tiny voice tells me to stop the bleeding. I walk forward on my knees. He’s unconscious and covered in blood, his muscular physique still.

  Blood pumps from a huge gash in his side, from his thigh, from both shoulders, the side of his neck . . .

  There’s no stopping or replacing that much blood without a legit hospital, which this world doesn’t have. I sit back, stricken by helplessness and horror, unable to believe the only man I’ve ever wanted is dying before me.

  I’m becoming numb, my surroundings taking on a surreal feel. My ears buzz and I try to distance my feelings from here, try to convince myself it’s not real.

  But beyond a doubt, this world is real. Not only that, but it’s mine – just like the man dying before my eyes.

  “Go to your father, boy,” the Red Knight orders Westley. He pushes me over with little ceremony.

  “Oh, father,” Westley says, the raw note in his tone telling me his father is worse off.

  “Alive or dead?” the Red Knight demands.

  “M’lord,” my squire interjects tentatively from a dozen feet away.

  “Quiet, squire! Brown Sun, is he alive or dead?”

  “Dead,” is the whispered response.

  My heart is too heavy to ache for the boy who just lost his father. I can only think of everything I’ve spent a lifetime missing, of a man who finds me and all my faults beautiful and whose heart is larger than his kingdom.

  Atreyu will never see the blue sky or sit on the emerald hills overlooking the ocean. He’ll never know true peace or see a thousand years of suffering end. I would give anything for him to know that joy, even if it meant I returned to my own world, never to experience his touch, kiss, skin, scent. My whole life has been treading water until Black Moon Draw and its Shadow Knight.

  The fleeting thoughts pierce me through the heart and I double over, mental agony turning physical.

  Get a hold of yourself! I shout internally. If I give up now, I’ll definitely never save him. I need to keep trying, to bind his wounds and pray. Last night, he, too, had given up, only to find a reason to fight today. I can do no less, no matter what the personal cost or how much it hurts.

  The Red Knight sits back on his heels. “I cannot help him, witch,” he says softly. “Have you any magic at all?”

  I shake my head, trembling too hard to speak.

  “Boy, come!”

  Westley stands slowly, eyes lingering on his father, his sorrow clear. He joins us and squats outside the reach of the puddle of blood.

  “He lives. Mayhap we can still counter the curse.” The Red Knight removes a dagger from his belt and places it on the torso of the Shadow Knight. “By the blood of my line and the rivers of my kingdom, I pledge my loyalty and fealty to the Shadow Knight of Black Moon Draw.” With a bow of his head, he leans back, leaving the knife in place.

  Westley’s hands quake. He mirrors the movements of the Red Knight, his words barely audible.

  “M’lord,” the squire tries again.

  The Shadow Knight breathing stops. “Oh, god!” I push past the Red Knight.

  He grabs my arms. “You cannot help him, witch. Now we wait and see if we acted in enough time.”

  I rest my hands on Atreyu’s chest, praying for a miracle. If ever there was a time to be a magical being or for LF to intervene, it’s now.

  “Naia!” the squire all but shouts.

  “Boy!” the Red Knight jerks. “You do not use the name of –”

  The castle begins to shake, from the stone foundation beneath us to the wooden rafters to the walls.

  The Red Knight steadies me and we both look up and around. “It’s collapsing,” he assesses.

  “Because he’s dead,” I whisper. “Because he was the only one who could face the curse.”

  “’Tis the magic of the Heart that must face the curse,” the squire says, careening in our direction.

  “’Tis gone,” the Red Knight snaps.

  “Nay, sire. I read it in the scrolls. The magic remains. I can see it.”

  I lift my eyes.

  The squire is looking right at me.

  The Red Knight glances from him to me and then back, staring. “Naia, you’re glowing.”

  “What?”

  The rafters begin to moan under the strain of holding up the stone roofing during an earthquake.

  “What do you know of what was supposed to happen after he defeated the realm?” The Red Knight snatches my arms. “Quickly!”

  “I . . . he was supposed to face the curse. It’s somewhere in this castle.”

  He drags me to my feet. “Take me there.”

  My gaze goes to the Shadow Knight.

  “Naia, if you have the key to saving us, you have the key to saving him. Take us there!”

  A protest dies in my throat. Since entering the castle, I’
ve been guided by magic that didn’t belong to the Shadow Knight, magic that helped me the way the Heart did.

  My hands and arms are radiating purple light, the way my medallion did.

  The ground pitches and I smack into the squire. The impact snaps me out of the daze I’m in long enough for me to realize we’re all about to die, if we don’t take a chance and find the room the Shadow Knight spoke of.

  I can save him. I must save him. We’re all doomed anyway. I can die wallowing in misery the way I have my entire life or find the courage to fight, like he did.

  I have every reason in the world to fight. With a final look at the Shadow Knight, I gather my wits and turn towards the exit.

  The squire takes my hand and pulls me into the hallway. We share a sad smile, battle buddies until the very last moment.

  “Go!” the Red Knight shouts, pushing us towards the hallway.

  We bolt together.

  “Show me the way!” I yell to the castle that’s imploding around us.

  Torches light up to my left the moment I reach the corridor.

  “Do not stop until you reach it!” the Red Knight orders, joining us in the hallway. Westley is at his heels.

  Turning, I begin running once more. This time, there’s more on the line than my aching body and burning lungs. I can’t stop – no matter what. Adrenaline, despair, the need to see his eyes open one more time . . . I’m driven by nothing but near-madness, unable to feel my body and barely registering the destruction and quaking around us.

  We race through the collapsing fortress, leaping over gaps in the floor and scampering over fallen stones, following the torches. The hallway turns brighter when we pass by a set of windows.

  A cry comes from behind us and the squire and I turn halfway down the well-lit corridor, catching our balance against the wall between windows. The floors shudder dangerously beneath us.

  Westley has fallen, his legs trapped by a massive stone. There’s no way he can walk again, even if we manage to get it off him.

  The Red Knight bends over him.

  “Gods.” The squire tugs me to the window and we look out.

  If I were any less horrified, I’d be in tears.

  The city is collapsing in on itself, buildings toppling into gaping holes in the ground.. Beyond it, the mountain peaks tumble into the ocean while green hills explode.

  “Why are you doing this?” I scream into the air, hating LF. “Make it stop!”

  “Go!” the Red Knight belts at us. “Now!”

  I turn and see him starting towards us. “But he’s -”

  “You must,” Westley calls. There’s resolve on his face.

  My heart breaks again. The squire pulls me forward and we begin running once more through the maze of hallways. I choke back tears. I’m about to lose it in the worst way possible.

  Just when I feel like I’m going to explode, we reach a corridor boiling over with purple smoke almost too thick for the light of torches to reach us. The floor pitches and throws all of us to the stones. I lose my squire’s hand and bat away the fog.

  Pain ricochets through me as I land hard on uneven blocks of stone. It clears the sensations of my building meltdown and I focus on the pain for a moment to bring my mind back to the task at hand rather than the despair swallowing me.

  “Are . . . you there?” I gasp out, panting after the killer pace.

  “Here,” the Red Knight grunts from nearby.

  “Squire?”

  No answer.

  I push up and swat the fog from the spot where my squire would’ve fallen.

  There’s a black gap where the floor should be.

  I can barely breathe. “We aren’t gonna make it,” I say, stricken.

  “We will.” The Red Knight hauls me up by my waist. “No matter what happens, you must stop this curse.”

  The world is dying and all its people with it. Choking on tears and smoke, I say nothing. He takes my hand and we start forward more cautiously.

  The hallway is clogged with purple clouds emanating from the doorway at its end. I move towards it, not liking how much harder it is to breathe here than anywhere else in the castle. The sensations of being ready to pass out are creeping up on me. My pulse is racing, my ears straining for any sound indicating the ceiling above us is collapsing. My instincts are screaming for me to hurry, to discover some magical way to save the Shadow Knight’s life.

  “This is it,” I murmur. We reach the door outlined in purple light. “God, I hope this works.”

  “What do we do?” he asks.

  “I’m not sure.” I release his hand and reach for the doorknob only to discover there is none. I rest both palms on the rough wood lightly and trace them over it, seeking some other method of opening it. Finding none, I push.

  The door swings open to reveal a torch lit room behind it.

  “I see naught,” the Red Knight leans past me.

  “Me neither.” Frustrated, I stare into the empty chamber. There’s no source of purple smoke and gray fog, not even furniture.

  The stone floor pitches again, the dying throes of a world about to cease to exist. I smack into the side of the doorway and brace my arms against it. There’s no doubt this is where the fog is coming from.

  “We go in,” I decide.

  The Red Knight takes my hand. “Agreed.”

  I glance up at him, tears blinding me. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “What choice is there?” he replies.

  Swallowing hard, I nod.

  “Witch, do me one favor,” he adds, uncertainty slipping into his shaky voice for the first time. “If you survive this, and I am trapped or lost, swear you will summon me.”

  Not about to tell him I have no idea how to do that, I nod. “Okay. I will.”

  “You will need my name.”

  “What is it?”

  “Jareth.”

  “Jareth?” I squeak. It’s the name of the Villain in the Labyrinth. For a split second, I experience a sinking feeling in my gut, one that tells him accompanying me may not be a good idea after all. With no clear-cut loyalties and a bizarre motivation to find LF that I don’t understand, I may be helping someone I shouldn’t get a leg up in a way that could backfire down the road.

  Assuming we survive, which doesn’t look likely.

  “Fare thee well, Naia,” the Red Knight says and releases my hand. He enters, vanishing the moment he steps foot into the vacant room.

  There’s magic here, hidden somewhere. Desperate to save the Shadow Knight and his world, I leap into the deceptively empty room.

  The walls ripple and change from stone to plaster, the stone floor turning to familiar carpet. The shattering of stones of the world crumbling behind me is replaced by the faint sound of the air conditioning system and the quiet television I left playing.

  “Oh, dear god!” I breathe.

  I’m back in my apartment.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  “What just happened?” I’m talking to the bathroom door. Stunned, I turn around. “Red Knight? You here?”

  No answer.

  My eyes sweep over the cramped living area, where my movies still play on a loop on the TV, to the desk crammed into the three foot of wall space between the couch and the two-person dining area. The kitchen light is on like I left it, along with the bedroom light. My apartment has always been small, but it never seemed constrictive or uninspiring before. There’s barely room to move from one side to the other.

  A sense of disbelief, coupled with disorientation, renders me motionless. The walls cease rippling as this reality takes hold, and I listen to the quiet discussion occurring between the boy-hero of The Neverending Story playing on the television and the beautiful princess I wanted to be like when I was little. She’s handing him the spark meant to bring back the world he lost.

  I blink and look away. It isn’t possible I’m here.

  “I’m going crazy.” This is my apartment – and yet it no longer feels like mine. The
woman who lives here isn’t a battle-witch alternately feared and valued by a barbaric society that’s starting to grow on me. The owner of this place is . . . depressing. There’s no spark of life anywhere here, no pride of ownership or attempt to personalize the blank walls. This place could belong to anyone. It’s not special or remotely charming, and it reflects my attempt to remain as anonymous as possible passing through life. The only part that shows a bit of personality is my desk. By personality, I mean it’s messy.

  What am I supposed to do now? How is my apartment at the center of a curse?

  Is this even real?

  I go to my desk and touch the two empty wine bottles beside the computer screen.

  The glass is cool beneath my fingertips. I remember drinking the first bottle and opening the second before my blackout started. A picture of Jason and me is flat on its face next to a stack of library books I’m reading.

  I’m home, and so out of place, I can’t begin to determine what I feel.

  Did I even go anywhere or was it some bizarre dream? The sense of not being fully a part of any world makes my breathing quicken. A glance down at my clothing reassures me I’m dressed for Black Moon Draw, covered in the blood of the Shadow Knight.

  “Hello?” I call to no one. There’s nothing unusual or out of place that indicates I’m still in the book. Fear catches up with me, along with desperation. “I can’t be here! Send me back! I have to save him!”

  The neighbor’s alarm clock is going off and one of my cats meows and leaps onto the back of the couch.

  “Tuna?” I pick him up. The downy gray fur of my oldest cat makes me shiver. His purr rattles against my fingers, the lean body and softness only making my confusion worse.

  How can I be here? Did I get sent back? If so, why? Because it was too late to save the world and I got booted?

  Or . . . is this the illusion created by the curse? Another trial?

  “I don’t understand.” There’s no doubt it’s my apartment.

  If the story on Wattpad has been updated, I can find out what’s supposed to happen next.

  A heavy emotion I can’t yet name is unraveling in my breast. My hands tremble with urgency and dread at the thought of discovering my adventure is over or worse – the Shadow Knight is truly dead.