Captive Moon

by C. T. Adams

  She began to feel warm. Heat began to swell inside her as it had when she was pulling power from Antoine. It didn’t sting like Ahmad’s power, but it was definitely magical energy and it was joining the swirling orange light and making the color move around faster.

  Giselle gasped and it made Tahira twist her head to look at her. Like something out of a dream, or closer to a nightmare, Giselle began to…thin. It was as though the faster the orange light swirled, the thinner she became. By the time Tahira realized what the circle of light must be, Antoine’s Grand-mère had been reduced to a shadow of her former self, looking for all the world like a concentration camp victim in Holocaust photos.

  “You see what your sharp tongue has gotten you, old cat?” Bertha stalked toward Giselle and pulled the blindfold from her eyes. “I chose you to start the ritual, instead of the tiger male. You will beg for mercy before I’m done with you. I can start or stop the ritual at will.” She smiled at Giselle and it was filled with malice. “Rghnl olpnst nbwiq!”

  Tahira gasped as everything froze around her, causing a lunge in her stomach that felt like like hitting an air pocket in flight. She felt like she was trapped in gelatin. The power surrounded her, filled her, and was solid enough that she should have been able to grasp it in her hands. This wasn’t like the other times when her skin felt heated and threatened to crawl off her body.

  Giselle stared up at the woman with proud eyes that were sunken deep in a skeleton-like face. “There is nothing you could do to me that would make me beg to the likes of you.”

  “Oh, I see it quite differently.” She put on a heavy canvas glove and then reached out. She pulled at the neck collar Giselle wore until the bite of silver turned Giselle’s neck to a smoking, charred mass that made the old lynx nearly pass out. “I am Rachel Portes, heir to the glorious spider empire, and you will soon learn that begging is the least of what you’ll be willing to do.”

  “Leave her alone!” Tahira screamed the words loud enough to echo through the chamber. Rachel turned to watch her struggle against her chains. They bent and stretched but held her firmly against the rock. “It’s me you want! You don’t need the others. Just kill me and be done with it!”

  Rachel looked amused, but Tahira couldn’t smell a damned thing through the haze of power. “But I don’t want to kill you, Tahira. Lord Sargon intends that you will live to serve him. You are the power well he has sought for centuries.” She raised her hand and turned in a slow circle. “All of these shifters will give their lives to fill you and then Sargon will pull the power from you to increase his might.” Rachel walked right to the edge of the circle and peered down at Tahira’s stunned face with glittering silver pupils that seemed to swallow the whites. “Of course, how he pulls it from you is the thing you should fear. You need only be alive to serve him. There are many things worse than death, as you will soon learn. Krhlow plihep!”

  The dance of light started above her again, and Giselle let out a small sound that was not quite a whimper, but her eyes remained steady and angry. Tahira raised her shoulders and pulled her arms inward hard, straining every muscle she had. Her shoulders began to hurt and then burn. But this was the butterfly machine from hell. The chains wouldn’t give. The rock wouldn’t budge. She fell back against the cool stone, panting for breath, watching in horror as life drained from Giselle’s tiny form and joined the swirling light above her.

  “Dr. Fortes? Please stop the ritual for a moment.” Tahira looked up at the same moment Rachel did. A strange, trilling hiss of annoyance was directed at the man still standing just past the doorway, hidden in the shadows. Tahira couldn’t quite place the voice, but it sounded slightly familiar.

  “If Lord Sargon wishes this experiment to succeed, then I must remain undisturbed.”

  “One disturbance won’t harm the experiment. We both know it will succeed. Now, stop the ritual or I will do it myself.”

  Rachel smirked at the shadow in the doorway. “Only one who knows the proper incantations can make the power dance on command.”

  There was a deep sigh that spoke of frustration and annoyance. “If you insist on making a fool of yourself, then perhaps you’ve outlived your usefulness. Rghnl olpnst nbwiq!”

  Rachel’s mouth opened in shock, but then her face settled into a livid hate. The man stepped into the room and Tahira gasped at the familiar face. “Larry! Get out of here. You don’t know what this woman is capable of!”

  Rachel laughed with equal parts bitterness and amusement. “Oh no. He knows, Tahira. But that’s right—you’re still under the impression that ‘Larry’ is a close and trusted friend.” She smiled wickedly. “He’s not. Nasil belongs to Lord Sargon, just as I do. He betrayed you all so Sargon could rule the world.”

  Tahira stared at Larry, waiting for him to deny it, to come and unchain them. But he merely sighed and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  He stepped farther into the room with his hands behind his back. He moved gracefully, with the smooth, powerful steps of a dancer. Power beat at the edges of the orange circle like waves buffeting a wall. He was totally unlike sweet, slow Larry the rat snake. He looked down on her, naked and helpless on the rock, and shook his head. Dr. Portes stepped to his side and grinned at Tahira’s suddenly frightened face.

  It was all a trick! Bruce, Giselle—he knew. He helped!

  “It’s an interesting thing about betrayal,” he said quietly, with an odd lilt to his voice. “Once you get past it the first time—”

  A scuffle from outside the chamber made Rachel look up, but Larry, or whoever he really was, didn’t. A man’s cry was cut short with a wet, thick sound that ended with a thump, and Rachel started to move behind Larry to go investigate. But he grabbed her arm and spun around sharply. Tahira saw the flash of a blade just before it sank into the woman’s small form.

  “It’s quite easy to do again.” He pulled the blade up and blood began to flow freely from a gaping wound in Rachel’s stomach.

  But she wasn’t killed that easily. She yanked back out of reach and changed form in a blur that seemed to vibrate the air. Tahira screamed as she finally saw Rachel’s animal form. The spider was nearly as high as the boulder she was tied to and as wide as a car. She was still dripping fluid from her stomach that was thick and yellow.

  “So,” she said, with an eerie sing-song voice that made Tahira’s skin crawl, “you’ve finally decided to replace me in Lord Sargon’s favor. But I won’t be as easy to eliminate as you think.”

  Another blur of movement and a massive snake appeared with golden eyes and a narrow nose that ended in a point. It rose above her to the ceiling and was the same thickness as Larry’s chest had been. U-shaped black markings stood out in sharp relief against the tan and white scales. A forked tongue nearly as dense as her arm flicked from his mouth, and when his jaws opened and he hissed, she could smell the distinctive bitter odor of a viper. Despite the orange press of power against her face, the thick, deadly scent told her that Larry had been lying about more than she’d ever imagined. But who had he been lying to?

  WATER AND ROCK pressed against Antoine’s chest as he struggled through the opening into the cave. Ahmad had gone in ahead of him and his thinner body had easily moved through the underground stream. But Antoine’s rib cage was now stuck fast, wedged in between the solid stone walls. He couldn’t even move his arms backward enough to chip at the stone with the sword. He raised his head, but there was no air pocket to get another breath. The icy torrent pushed against him and his muscles began to shake as his chest burned from lack of oxygen. Perhaps if he shifted he could swim through.

  But can I shift without taking a breath?

  It’s something he’d never tried before, and he was afraid to find out the answer. But the vision was continuing in front of his eyes, like a motion picture playing against the murky water. Giselle’s skin looked like parchment. It was stretched taut over her skull, and she was breathing so shallowly he wasn’t positive she was still alive. Tahira fought like a wild
cat against her chains, to no avail. He watched as Nasil entered the room and was at least gratified when Nasil stabbed a long knife into the spider’s chest. Perhaps he really would save the rest, even if Antoine didn’t survive.

  His eyelids were growing heavy as the pressure in his chest increased. Eventually he would pass out and draw water into his lungs. Could a Sazi survive drowning? He just didn’t know. As white spots and flowers replaced the vision in front of him, he heard a muffled voice.

  “Grab hold of the hilt!” The annoyed baritone seemed to come from a long way away, but when he felt something hard and metal bump against his hands, he released his own sword and grabbed on to the grip of the matching one firmly. He felt a tug that tore at his shoulder muscles, and then he slowly but steadily slid through the opening. Unforgiving rock ripped painfully at his skin, but he would heal. When he finally saw light above him, he raised his head frantically and pulled cool air into his lungs, coughing and gasping until he could breathe normally.

  Ahmad was glaring at him and wiping blood on his soaking pants. It occurred to Antoine that if he had been holding the hilt of the sword, then Ahmad had been pulling him through while holding the blade.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly so that nobody would hear. Pulling himself from the stream, he noticed a familiar scent and glanced over to see the decapitated head of Hakeem staring at him with wide, startled eyes.

  Well, he managed his goal—he’s had his vengeance.

  He didn’t have to wonder for long whether his fellow councilman would continue the battle despite killing the guard.

  “Can you still reach your sword?” Ahmad hissed angrily. “We’ll be at a disadvantage if you can’t.”

  Antoine turned around and ducked his head back under the water, reaching back to see if the sword was still there, or if it had been carried away by the rush of water. He used his feet to push him even farther back and could finally touch the hilt with his fingertips. He clawed at the handle to draw it closer, but it shifted and sank a bit farther down.

  “Oath of my mother!” Ahmad muttered almost too softly for him to hear. Antoine felt hands grab his ankles, and then he was shoved hard into the rock tunnel once more, nearly stealing the breath from his lungs. But it was enough, because he was able to grasp the leather grip of the sword. He kicked one foot as a signal that he hoped Ahmad would understand, and was relieved when he was pulled back out of the water.

  “You’re worse than useless so far,” Ahmad said with an annoyed shake of his head. “Hopefully you’ll do better on dry land.” He gripped the leather bindings of the sword carefully, but with a surprised expression he noticed that the deep cuts in his palms had already healed. He flexed his hands experimentally and chuckled softly. “I take back what I said about the Rabbet. With this level of healing ability, we might just walk out of here under our own power.”

  “That’s the plan,” Antoine replied as he secured the rubber band around his wet, disheveled hair. “I see you’ve already taken care of the first guard. Where is Bahir?”

  “The coward ran deeper into the cave. I suppose we must expect that he’ll raise an alarm.”

  Antoine motioned as the sound of furious fighting and crashing glass in the chamber in front of them grew in intensity. “If nobody has come to investigate whatever is happening in there, then I think we’re safe for a time.”

  Before they could move out of the way, the battle came to them. Antoine could tell by the scents of the snake and spider that were grappling that Nasil had been true to his word. But as he tried to get past them to get to Tahira, the spider made a break for the cave again. A trilling sound spewed from her mouth. “Krhlow plihep!”

  Nasil quickly slithered after her, ignoring both him and Ahmad. Antoine started to follow, but Ahmad pushed him away with a sharp hand to the chest. “We don’t have time. Nasil is perfectly capable of dispatching that…thing. We have to concentrate on my father. He cannot be allowed to leave here. If the ceremony is interrupted, he’ll know and will disappear. We have to find him and engage him before that happens.”

  Antoine frowned. “But Tahira—”

  “Will survive if we kill Sargon. But if we choose to save Tahira, he’ll get away, and then he’ll simply hunt her until he captures her again. No, this must end now.”

  He glanced at the doorway with rising panic. The vision had deserted him, perhaps because he was now living it. Since he hadn’t seen Nasil attack the spider, maybe the future was wavering, waiting for his next act. He nodded at Ahmad. “Very well. We find Sargon and kill him.”

  Ahmad actually smiled. “You make it sound so simple. I hope your confidence and enthusiasm hold when he ambushes us. That’s his preferred method of attack. Remember, as we discussed, our goal is to keep stabbing and cutting at him to wear him down and force him to use some of his power to heal. Concentrate on using your power only to divert his strikes. Don’t wear yourself down trying to hold him or attack with magic. He will attack us with magic, and you’ll need to use your power as a shield.” He turned to walk into the darkness but then snapped his fingers and said over his shoulder, “Oh, and he’s very accurate with his venom spits, so keep moving, even if it means you miss a cut, but then quickly slash before he can spit a second time.”

  It had been a long time since he’d battled anyone with swords. He was adequate with a blade, but certainly not at Ahmad’s level. “Is there a chance that we can defeat him using that method?”

  The cobra’s face was amused. “Hardly. No, our goal is to hopefully wear him down until Nasil can release the others. If we can use some of our power to change Tahira and her brother, then we might stand a chance with a multiposition attack.”

  A rolling, malevolent bass from the darkness made both of them turn with swords extended. “Thank you for explaining your plan, my son. I see that my disappointment in you wasn’t misplaced.”

  A rasping sound of something hard slithering over the stone came closer and closer. Antoine could smell him now, and the bitter odor was so strong that it nearly made him choke. Glowing red eyes blinked in the darkness and remained still for a long moment. He flexed his fingers on the wet leather grip and added his other hand, steadying his stance for either a thrust or a cut.

  He felt power press on him that was stronger than he’d ever experienced. It seared his skin and burned through his chest. And Sargon wasn’t even attacking yet. The torch caught the bright yellow of Sargon’s belly as he rose up and up until his head was far overhead, against the ceiling. His tail disappeared into the darkness, leaving no clue as to his true size.

  Although Antoine was concentrating on Sargon’s movements, he heard a small clatter of rocks behind and then the pad of soft paws.

  They intend to trap us between attacks.

  “Ahmad! Change of plans!” Antoine dropped the sword and leapt into the air, not waiting to see what Ahmad would do in response. When he landed, he had changed to cat form and he shook the tattered remains of his clothing from his fur. With a second leap before his heart could beat again, he found the location of the lion by scent, and slammed into the cat with teeth and claws bared.

  They tumbled from the ledge where the lion had lain in wait, and hit the cave floor with a bone-jarring crash. He heard vicious hisses in the distance and knew that Ahmad had also decided in favor of animal form for their battle.

  Antoine raked his claws down the lion’s side and as it turned away, he closed his jaws around the neck. He squeezed down, feeling his teeth sink through fur and flesh. The scent of fresh blood filled his nose and spurred him on. The lion was thrashing in pain, trying to get purchase on the rocks to break free.

  He heard the noise just before a second lion struck him in the side. He lost his grip for a moment, but then once again closed his jaws around the first lion. He ignored the pain as fangs sank in his back; the Rabbet was making his system work so fast that he healed as quickly as he was wounded. It wasn’t worth wasting his power to stop the second lion.

>   Instead, he clamped down harder on his opponent’s neck and then twisted and pulled sharply. He heard a crack and then the full, limp weight of the lion pulled his head to the floor. He turned in midair and leapt on the second lion. It tried to break free and escape, but Antoine was faster. He grabbed it around the sides and dug his claws in the soft belly while his jaws once again claimed the neck, this time from the top. It was over in moments and two bodies were lying at his feet.

  TAHIRA LIFTED HER head as the triumphant roar of a familiar cat washed over the sound of Larry and Rachel’s battle. Elation filled her, despite the circumstances. He was alive!

  But there was still the man Rachel had called Sargon to deal with. She had to get out of here to help Antoine. But she couldn’t figure out any way to get out of the chains, unless Larry managed to win. But they seemed equally matched, and neither was wearing down. They were both carefully avoiding the rock where Tahira was chained. At one point, Rachel had stepped within the circle of light, and Tahira felt a stinging flow of power that felt even more toxic than Ahmad’s.

  Maybe that’s the key!

  As soon as Rachel had pressed another attack and her back was turned, Tahira raised and turned her head to look at her brother. “Rabi! Isim!” She whispered the words very carefully, hoping he would hear. His ears were at least equal to hers. She concentrated, closed her eyes and willed the edges of light and motion to blur until she disappeared from sight. When she looked down, only the manacles remained visible. But the angles were wrong. They would reveal that she was still there, so she moved her body, stretching and straining her muscles to bend until the silver chains appeared to be empty and loose. She might be able to hold the isim, but she didn’t know if she could keep her muscles from twitching the tight bindings for very long. Rachel had to notice soon.