The Valley of Ten Crescents Series (Box Set: Books 1-3)

by Tristan J. Tarwater

  “Ah,” Tavera said. “And how long have you been plowing her?” she asked.

  The look on Tender’s face made her laugh out loud.. “What?” Tender said. “I never! I mean. She’s--”

  “He’s been circling the bed for a year,” Little said, a hint of smugness in his voice. “Can’t seem to mess the sheets.”

  “Little!” Tender hissed. Tavera laughed again. Little looked back, a smile of triumph on his face.

  “No shame in taking it slow,” Tavera reassured Tender. She patted him on the shoulder, Tender seeming relieved she wasn’t making fun of him. “Just a whole barrel of frustration, I’m sure.” She grinned at Tender, his face coloring at her words.

  “It’s just,” Tender started. “I mean, you’ve been to Whitend! Cera’s here, seeing to her duties. And I’ve got mine, with my bar and, well, looking after Kella. And Little.” He pointed at Little accusingly. “I can’t expect to pull her away from what she has to do and when I do visit, I’m not going to say, ‘Oh, Cera, I’m here for the night, let’s rub ‘em together.’”

  “’Rub ‘em together’? Is that an east Valley saying?” Tavera laughed. She felt her cheeks starting to hurt from grinning. “Why not? She obviously don’t just hold you in her heart, as they say.”

  “Now is the worst possible time to even be thinking about this,” Tender huffed.

  “Why?” Little scolded. “Do priestesses being abducted by crazed one-eyed cultists put you off your pleasure, Brother?” Little scoffed, opening the stable door. “Really, the both of you.”

  “Eh, toss off, Little,” Tavera said. “We can’t be serious all the time. If you can’t make a joke to lighten the load, the heavy crushes eventually, and we’ve got a heavy deal here. Better to crack a smile than get a crack in your spirit.”

  A priestess in gray-and-brown stable clothes came forward, taking the reins of Little’s horse. “I guess you’ve a point,” Little said, stepping to the side for Tender to lead his horse into the stable. “And truth be told, Tender could use a plowing.”

  “I hate you, Herix,” Tender said through grit teeth.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Find A Way

  Tavera flipped her dagger over in her hand. She knew the activity was irritating Tender but she didn’t care. She was doing it to keep herself occupied. They had been waiting in the courtyard of the temple complex for longer than they had anticipated. Tender sat on a bench, taking another slow mouthful of his soup. Any time someone walked by he would look up hopefully. This had happened several times, the stirrings proving to be other priestesses of the temple, going about their duties. Sister Cera hadn’t passed by.

  Little snored quietly on another bench. Around them were the well-tended trees and flowers of the inner courtyard, pink and white petals floating through the breeze. The remnants of their lunch sat on another bench, soup, white bean paste in bread, and sausages, which Tavera had declined. Tender had made a face at the beer they served but drank it. He took another slurp of his soup, his eyes focused on the ground and not the dagger Tavera flipped in her hand again. She flipped it again and noticed he winced slightly. He didn’t trust her to catch it. Tavera threw it a bit higher and caught it. Tender turned away from her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Tavera saw the figure of Cera approaching, her steps quickly paced, scarves flowing behind her. Tavera tucked her dagger away and stood just a breath after Tender did. Tender smacked Little’s hat off of his brother’s face, rousing his brother quickly.

  “What news?” Tender asked. Tavera heard a hint of nervousness in his voice, though she saw he was trying to seem collected. The look on Sister Cera’s face told Tavera the news she had wasn’t good.

  “The messenger bird came back from Greenmere,” Cera said. “The High Priestess is busy with the death of their High Priestess. They’ve asked she oversee the dissemination and choosing of the next High Priestess. In any case, she could not get here till tomorrow evening at the very earliest if she rode hard. Her health would not allow for that.”

  “Please, Cera, some good news?” Tender said. “We came all this way, we need something.”

  “She did say you may have access to the temple’s library,” Cera said. “I can help you maneuver the books and scrolls.” Cera looked over their faces; they must have looked distressed. “In addition,” she added quickly. “I suggest you go see Master Scritch. He specializes in maps, especially of the Freewild.”

  “How does he get maps of the Freewild?” Tavera asked.

  “He pays people for their information,” Cera said. “Simple as that. People will pay for accurate maps, especially of the Green.”

  “Fair enough,” Tavera said. “I’ll go see this map maker and try to get his most recent one.”

  “Why should you be the one to go?” Tender asked.

  “I’m pretty good at getting good deals on things, truth be told,” Tavera said. Little narrowed his eyes at her. “Though…maybe I’ll bring Little along with me,” she added. “He knows the town.”

  “Not much use in a library anyway,” Little said, picking his pack up and slinging it over his shoulder. “Can’t read much.”

  “You sure?” Tender asked. “We could all go together.”

  “You worried I’m going to break him?” Tavera asked. “We’ll go get the map and meet you at the library. Get a head start on that, we’ll bring the other pieces.”

  Tender looked like he wanted to say no. Tavera picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder, heading toward the exit. “It makes the most sense, Tender, we’ll cover the most ground this way. Where’s the map maker, Sister?” Tavera asked, walking backwards.

  “On Keel Street,” Cera called. “On the edge of the market square. It’s got a compass on the placard.” Cera frowned slightly. “Don’t you want to keep your things here? We can store them downstairs so you don’t have to carry them.”

  “No thanks, I like to have my things on me, Sister,” Tavera said, casting a glance back to make sure she wouldn’t trip. “Ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

  “You better not leave, Point!” Tender said. His tone was jovial but something in his face told Tavera he thought she might.

  “I ain’t,” Tavera called, spinning around. “Not unless Little’s looking to leave you as well.”

  “I need a break from Tender,” Little said. He actually smirked, his light eyes twinkling with mirth.

  “Come back soon as you can,” Tender called.

  “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone with Sister Cera for any long period of time, Braxton Tender,” Tavera said, trying not to laugh while she said it. She grinned as they walked away from the two, making their way out of the temple and onto the street.

  “So, the map? What’s your plan?” Little asked.

  “Easy,” Tavera said. She looked around and tried to remember which way the edge of the market square was but Little was already heading off in one direction. She loped after him, considering her plan. “Get a recent map of the Freewild and if we can, one from the year Kella was originally abducted.” Tavera walked alongside Little, looking over the layout of the streets, looking over the people over the town. “I’ll look over Kella’s journals and see where there’s overlap, try to use that to sort out where Cy may have taken her.”

  “It would have been nice if Cy would have told us where to bring the cursed thing,” Little huffed.

  “The Temple of the Red Moon Rising is what we got and we’ll figure it out,” Tavera said. “We’ve got to. Even if it moved, someone will probably know where the members would have fapped off to. Probably.” Tavera grimaced. How inconspicuous was a cult in the Freewild? A group of individuals with matching facial scars would be hard to hide. Then again, there were always things people kept their heads down about, especially in the Freewild Green. Tavera prayed someone had noticed, knew something which would help them find Kella.

  The map store was surprisingly airy. Afternoon light poured through the windows, motes of
dust spinning through the air. Plants grew in the windowsills, and on the back wall Tavera saw a fresco of Reedsend. Around it were other depictions of the town throughout the years, the boundaries larger with the passing of time. Wide cabinets lined the walls, no doubt holding already-drawn maps of various parts of the Valley. A tall, scrawny man with wiry hair sat behind the counter. He set down his pen and smiled at Tavera and Little as they approached.

  “How can I help you?” the man asked, clearing his throat. “Are you in need of a map or are you here to sell information?”

  “We need a map,” Tavera said. Her eyes looked over the drawers and walls. Behind the counter was a curtain which led to what was probably a back room. A shadow passing under the curtain told Tavera someone was back there. “An old one, perhaps, and a new one.”

  “Heading to the Freewild Green?” the man asked with chuckle. He plucked a handkerchief from a back pocket, wiping his hands with the already-ink-stained square of fabric. “Well, I’ll pay for any information you bring back. What region?”

  “We’re not sure,” Little admitted. “Probably central.”

  “Do you have a map of temples in the Freewild, perhaps?” Tavera asked. “Other holy sites?”

  “Is there one specifically you’re looking for?” the man asked. He hopped off the chair and limped out from behind the counter. His limp was revealed to be the result of a wooden leg. The man grabbed a cane and walked over to one of the cabinets, an index finger running down the labels on the drawers.

  “Temple of the Red Moon Rising,” Tavera said. She couldn’t help but grimace. Even saying the name sent her skin to crawl. The map maker raised an eyebrow and took his hands off the drawer.

  “That’s an old temple, to be sure. Doesn’t exist anymore,” he said. The way he said it told Tavera he believed it. “You going to dig about the ruins?”

  “It does exist,” Little said. “And they’re going to kill someone there.”

  “What my friend means to say,” Tavera interrupted, pushing past Little, “is we’ve been told to go there, and we mean to.”

  The map maker’s eyebrows raised on his face, dark brown eyes wide. “Well, I’ll have a map depicting the last known location of that cursed place,” he said. “But if they’ve moved, I may not be able to help you. If you can avoid it, I would recommend it.” He pressed his thin lips together in something close to a smile and shrugged. “I’ll…I’ll get the map for you.” The old man hobbled toward the back room. “Gee!” he called before he disappeared behind the curtain.

  Tavera listened as he spoke with whoever was behind the curtain. She sniffed and continued to look around, avoiding Little’s eyes, straightening out her tunic and belt while she waited. She wondered what Tender and Cera were up to, what they had found in the library. Tavera still had to look over the journals. Perhaps she should have looked over them before coming here, she thought. But the map maker might have closed before she had finished. Maybe she’d go to a bar and go over the journals with some food. Get rid of Little and have some time to herself to sort out this part. That made sense.

  Tavera leaned on one of the counters, looking at the intricately carved top. It was a carving of the Ten Crescents with the Holy Bowl laid at the left hand side, the Crescents winding their way down the length of the counter, inlaid with a beautiful material. The hometowns of the barons were depicted with their house colors, two-toned circles. Her eyes traced back to the Three Lake region, where the ‘Wicks were. Where she had come from. Portsmouth was in Tyeskin Barony, where Gam lived. And Lights was down in Mielkin Barony. Derk…she traced her finger across the top of the carving, pulling her hand away.

  The map maker emerged. Behind him came a woman who made Tavera look at her twice, the woman more interesting than the maps at the moment. She was dark skinned, darker than Tavera, darker even than the Forester Tavera had bedded what seemed like ages ago. The woman’s wooly hair was pulled back atop her head in a bun. Her eyes were dark brown. The slight creases in her face and the way she held her mouth told Tavera she liked to laugh, though the woman was dressed in drab colors. Adding to her strangeness were her hands; despite the dark color of her skin, Tavera was still able to see black ink tattoos on her fingers and the backs of her hand.

  “This is my assistant, Gee,” the map maker said, seeing their faces.

  “Gaela of Black Sands, more properly,” the woman said. Her voice was higher than Tavera had expected. The woman named Gaela smiled at them, looking them over. She seemed as puzzled by Tavera as Tavera was by her.

  “Black Sands? Where’s that?” Little managed.

  “South of here,” Gaela answered. “South of your Forest of Clouds, south of the Red Plains. Down to where the grass dies away and there is only sand.” Gaela meant for it sound mysterious, Tavera could tell. She enjoyed the look on Little’s face. Tavera was curious as well but the map of the Freewild was what they were there for, not a geography lesson of the world outside the Valley. “We have many maps of the Freewild Green, but you will need more than that,” the woman said.

  “What else will we need?” Tavera asked.

  “A map of the sky,” Gaela answered. “To better help you navigate.”

  “If the cultists are still around, they may have built their temple in a location with the most astronomical significance,” the map maker said.

  “What?” Tavera said. Tavera had been following the conversation up until then. “What do the stars have to do with this? We know the eclipse is…of significance,” she said, trying the word the map maker had used.

  “The eclipse sets the date but for the things they do, for their location, they rely upon the stars to dictate where they should be,” the map maker said. “What they are doing tonight is important but it is not their only dark ritual.”

  “How do you know all this?” Tavera asked, leaning away from the map maker.

  The map maker looked down at the scrolls he and the woman named Gaela had brought from the back room. His eyes began to shine, tears filling them. “My cousin was once taken by them. Many years ago.”

  “Sister Kella?” Tavera asked. She knew it wasn’t possible but it was close to the mark. The map maker looked up, his eyes wide. His wrinkled hands shook.

  “No, but he was with her,” he said. “He and three others, Kella included. They all went missing and we thought…we thought maybe a flood had taken them. Those happen in the Freewild in the summer, you know.” The old man licked his lips, his face seeming older than just a few breaths ago. “But two summers after they had gone, my cousin came back. He was…he was a different man. He was…he was…disfigured.” The map maker sat down on a stool behind the counter and Gaela put her hands on his shoulders in a comforting way, rubbing them with her tattooed hands. “He…he spoke of the temple and what they made him do and….” he said, his voice trailing off. “He said Kella was still there.”

  “Are you one of those who went to go rescue her?” Tavera asked. It was quiet in the room; the sound of a spring rain falling outside was the only thing she heard at the moment. The old man shook his head.

  “No, not me,” he said. “I couldn’t go.” He looked down at his leg, resting his hand on his knee. “And I didn’t want to.” The man sighed, looking up. There were tears in his eyes still but they didn’t fall. “I wanted to spend time with my cousin. I had missed him, thought him dead. I wasn’t going to leave him. And I’m glad I stayed. He died two phases after he came back.” The map maker wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling hard.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your cousin,” Tavera said. She looked back at Little; he had removed his hat and stood solemnly, obvious concern on his face.

  “I’m sorry for him and I’m worried about your friend who was taken,” the map maker said.

  “It was…Sister Kella who was taken,” Tavera said. “We’re going to rescue her.”

  “Sister Kella! By Her bosom, no!” The mapmaker stood there, mouth agape. “The sister, again? No, how
could he?” Tavera saw the man trembled even worse. Gaela walked into the back room and returned with a bottle and several glasses, pouring the contents of the bottle into the glasses. Tavera smelled how strong the liquor was and thought about Kella and her habit. The map maker took his glass and sipped on it, the act of wrapping his fingers around the cup seeming to calm him down. “How is her assistant handling it? Tender’s his name, right?” he asked.

  “As well as he can be,” Tavera shrugged. “He’s back at the temple, trying to find out what he can do about it. This is his brother with me, he’s coming with us to help.”

  The map maker shook his head, making a sad clucking sound with his tongue. He took another sip of his drink to steady himself, his face still sad. “I just can’t believe it! Why did they take her again? How cruel can one man be?”

  “They want something from her, they need something,” Little said. “They said if we don’t bring it, they’ll kill her.”

  “Then you must give it to them!” the map maker said. “You must, for her sake. For the sake of my cousin who tried to save her, by coming back to the Valley and warning us.”

  “Your cousin,” Tavera said. She tried to keep her voice steady, tried to keep the map maker from getting too emotional and unable to help them. “He came back and a party went out to rescue Sister Kella. He must have told them where the temple was.”

  “He did,” the map maker said. He put down his cup and unrolled the map. “This red mark is where the temple was when he was first taken by them. This brighter red mark is where they were when he escaped from them.”

  “Two locations?” Tavera asked. “Why did they move?”

  “They had to move where the light was, was all he told us,” the map maker said, his voice tired. “It’s been many years. They had several locations which they moved between. They could be at any one of them now. Well, Gaela can figure it out.”

  “I can consult my charts and get you a map of where they are likely to be,” Gaela said. “Where are you staying? I can bring it to you by the high moon.”