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

by Tristan J. Tarwater

  A desolate scene of burning buildings. A woman lying on the ground, a dark smudge of ink around her neck, a shard of something in her hand.

  She wanted to cry. Tavera took a deep breath, turning another page, feeling the brittle pages holding so much emotion, so many terrible memories. Tavera remembered Kella’s face, the creases in her skin, the look in her eyes. Growing up on the Blocks and in the Wicks, Tavera had led a rough life but nothing as bad as this. Never seen her friends killed. Never been tortured, kept prisoner. And once she was with Derk, never forgotten, passed over.

  All the time Sister Kella spent alone in her room, did she think of Cyric? The priestess had known he would come that night. What was she hoping to get, meeting him in secret? Tavera opened the pages of the later journals and looked over the drawings of Cyric. Some of these showed him in a gentler light, the scar across his face less menacing. What had happened that allowed Kella to hold two images of this man in her mind?

  Tavera flipped to the front of the next journal, seeing the image of the sickle sketched in black and red inks on the paper. More time seemed to pass between each entry. Some entries were simple retellings of the day. Drawings of more priestesses, more landscapes. Memories redrawn, each passing illustration fuzzier and fuzzier, though still as full of sadness and pain. Wing showed up again and again, usually with a drawing of Cy on the same page or on the opposite. Stains in the lettering suggested tears shed. Several suggested wet mugs had been placed on the pages to hold them down.

  What did the journals tell Tavera about Cy and the cultists? Whatever they had done to Sister Kella, it had affected her greatly. The pain she endured and the guilt she must have felt after her friend had died must have been too much to bear, yet Sister Kella had held on. Why? All she had was her congregation and, it seemed and from Tender’s accounts, she didn’t seem to take her duties too seriously.

  After years of abuse at the hands of Cy and the other cultists, what was her abduction? Revenge? The red moon was a time to pay debts and return wrongs, though most churches greatly encouraged non-violent reckoning. Did Cy think he was bringing her home? He wanted the plate, obviously, but why take Kella? Why not have her find it?

  The bar door opened and Tavera smirked as Tender entered, gazing around the bar until his eyes found Tavera, nodding in her direction. He squeezed in across from her, giving the journals a cursory glance. “Little said I’d find you here.”

  “Did he?” Tavera asked. “I thought you’d just check every bar in town until you found me.” She picked up her drink, flipping through the pages again to look over the illustrations. “Shouldn’t you be with Cera?” she asked, taking a sip. It was hoppy and floral, a good drink for spring.

  “Why, are you jealous?” he asked. Tender grinned. Tavera managed not to roll her eyes at his stupid jest.

  “No, I just thought we had a job to do,” she said. “Besides, what do I have to be jealous of? That you’re able to like two girls at once? It’s hardly a difficult task.”

  “Look, besides that,” Tender said, changing the subject. “What’re you doing in this bar? You should come back to the temple. Evening meal is about to start.”

  “I know what time of day it is,” Tavera sighed. “I’m just looking things over in a more…comfortable location.”

  “Comfortable?” Tender asked. “What’s more comfortable than the temple?”

  “A place I’m more used to,” Tavera said.

  “You’ve never been to this bar before,” Tender rebutted, smiling before taking a sip of his beer. He made a face and held it in his cheeks before swallowing.

  “I’ve been to so many bars throughout the Valley and you know what I’ve learned?” Tavera said. “They’re basically the same. A door you walk into, a keep behind the bar, liquor, beer, wine. Maybe a stage. They all smell like beer and food and are warm inside.” Tavera wondered if Sister Kella had made it to the cultist’s temple and if she found any of it comforting. The smell of Cy as he held her close to him, as they rode off. They would be in a different location. Would the difference be unsettling or a welcome change? Would it be disorienting?

  “Temples are the same for me,” Tender offered. “And the priestesses at this temple are very kind indeed. They lead their congregation well.”

  “I don’t doubt it, Tender, but I’m not of temples. I go to them. But that’s not all my life. My place is in the pews, not behind the altar.”

  “What do you think of my temple, then?” he asked, smiling. “Bar and temple? Is it like a dream come true for you?”

  “Not my dreams,” Tavera laughed, looking at the table. “No.”

  “What do you dream of?” Tender asked.

  “A man,” Tavera admitted. This was true.

  “Someone I know?” Tender asked, his eyebrows raising on his face.

  “A man I plowed,” Tavera said, watching as Tender smile faded. “Very handsome. Tall. Dark hair, dark eyes. Scars I could run my hands over. Do you know him?”

  “Probably not,” Tender murmured sheepishly, blushing slightly. “Sounds nice, though.”

  Tavera just shrugged. They sat there for a moment in silence. Tavera flipped through the pages of the journals. She thought of the terrible dream Cy had given her. She was convinced Cy had pushed it into her mind, with his terrible sickle. She remembered the sparks, how they had cascaded off the edge of the terrible blade. There was no mention of anything like that in the journal, not that Tavera saw initially.

  It wasn’t Wielding, what the Valley called magic, at least Tavera didn’t think so. Wielders didn’t use tools in the stories Tavera had heard. He wasn’t a spirit summoner. Priestesses prayed and lit incense and counseled but acting as vessels for the Goddess was seldom done and couldn’t be commanded. It was deliberate, what he had done. He knew what he was doing when he pointed the sickle at Tavera and knocked her into that terrible…whatever that was. What could he be mixing in Sister Kella’s mind? What memories and fears could he conjure and inflict upon her? And how could they stop him from doing it again?

  Tavera looked up from the books at Tender. “So.” She poured herself another cup of beer. “I’m going to finish up here and I’ll be back for evening meal.”

  “Alright,” Tender sighed. “We’ll talk when we get together.” He drummed his fingers on the table top before he stood. Tavera just chuckled to herself as she watched him go.

  Tavera looked over the stack of journals and put her head in her hands. All she knew after looking over them more closely was that Kella was indeed in danger, and that if they didn’t help her, there was no telling what Cy would do to her. She hoped the priestesses would have information which would save Sister Kella from further torment at the hands of the bloody cult.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  New Allies

  Tavera slung her pack over her shoulder and hopped down the steps leading up to the bar, looking up and down the street. Stores were winding down, the owners wanting to get home for evening meal before vespers. Food stalls were always the last to close, the farmers selling the ingredients needed up until the last minute, usually eating some of the wares for their own meal. Colorful heartberries in baskets scented the air as Tavera walked by, and the aroma of grains being toasted made her stomach growl. The vegetables she had eaten had been good but not enough.

  Tavera stretched her fingers, cracking her thumb knuckle as she approached the closest cart, looking at the bucket she intended to sample from and the owner. A light drizzle was falling from the sky so the robust man with the fuzzy red eyebrows was trying to stay out of the rain. A man and woman also approached the cart from the opposite direction, the man wrestling with the child he held in his arms. “Be good,” the man said. “If you want your ma to make you a treat, stop squirming.” The little boy seemed to take this as a challenge and starting wiggling more, laughing as his father tried to hold him and keep a straight face.

  “If I only made sweets when he was a good boy, we’d never get sweets,” the woma
n laughed. She already had her purse out, probably wanting to make the transaction as quick as possible, the vendor already drawing near. He didn’t notice Tavera open her belt pouch and come over, picking up a few berries and dropping them into her purse. They’d get bruised that way but it was a small price to pay. Her heart thumped as the vendor looked her way, eyebrows furrowing. She waved at him with the hand she had just used to pilfer the fruit, smiling at him, being sure her cloak covered the opened pouch.

  “They smell wonderful,” she said. He nodded a thank you and then turned back to the couple, counting out the berries they asked for, the woman offering a small cloth bag to place them in. Tavera turned and started walking away, feeling eyes on her. Tavera continued down the street, knowing better than to look back just yet. She kept her pace and closed her purse, looking over the other stores and stalls lining the street.

  A stall selling scented water and oils was still open. Stalls that sold goods tended to be more open to customers spending time looking at their wares, while food vendors generally chased people away if they lingered. Tavera offered half a smile to the woman sitting behind the makeshift counter. “I can make you a custom scent,” the woman said, her wide-brimmed hat making her face look small.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Tavera said, looking over the small clay jars labeled with words and pictures. She picked up a vial and looked at the picture. Beer burr. A picture of the pale green, scaled plant was painted on the side of the vial. Tavera removed the cap and sniffed. It was less bitter than it tasted, more floral, bright. Tavera put it back and decided to look in the direction where she had come from now, mouth pursing as she spied who was most likely watching her. The woman from the map shop was at the fruit stall, buying some heartberries. When she was done paying the man she turned and waved to Tavera, smiling brightly as she jogged over.

  “I’m glad I caught you here,” Gaela said. Tavera saw she had something slung over her shoulder, a long tube with a leather strap. She held a small basket of heartberry in her hands. “I have the maps you asked for.”

  “That was quick,” Tavera said, turning away from the stall and avoiding the seller’s irate expression.

  “We’ve got a powder that helps the ink dry faster,” Gaela admitted, apparently not willing to take any of the credit for herself. “And the maps weren’t hard to pin down. The star map was the hardeest of the three.”

  “I see,” Tavera said, starting to walk down the street, Gaela walking alongside her. She was shorter than Tavera and her hair was wrapped in a piece of fabric. Within her hood Tavera saw earrings on her ears, made out of something Tavera didn’t recognize. Gaela glanced at Tavera and Tavera realized she was staring, and felt her face grow hot. Gaela held the basket of heartberries out toward her.

  “Would you like one?” Gaela asked. Tavera smiled and took one, seeing Gaela smirk slightly. “It’s hard to eat just a few, isn’t it?”

  Tavera took a bite and looked at Gaela out of the corner of her eye. “Good thing you bought more than a grip,” Tavera said, finishing the berry and tossing the green leaves to the ground.

  “I saw you take from that man’s stall,” Gaela said quietly. Tavera kept walking at the same pace, trying to gauge why Gaela was telling her this.

  “Did you?” Tavera asked. “Take what?”

  “You took five berries from the lower basket.”

  If Derk was accused, he would laugh. That’s how Derk was. Tavera just let the silence drag on, walking down the street toward the temple. If Gaela had wanted to, she could have said something during the act but hadn’t. She wanted Tavera to know she had seen it but didn’t seem too troubled about it. She hadn’t accused her right away. “Did I?” Tavera said finally. She smiled at Gaela, a sideways smile. “Stranger things have happened. What’s your point?”

  “Why did you take them?” Gaela asked. Her words rang not with accusation but curiosity. Tavera puffed out her cheeks and blew out a long breath, wishing she had pockets to stuff her hands into. Maybe she should just run. She couldn’t, though. Gaela knew she was staying at the temple and they needed the maps. Better to sort this out and then see what happened.

  “Because I wanted to,” Tavera said.

  “Is Point your real name?” Gaela asked.

  “Yes,” Tavera said. “Any other inquiries?” she asked, taking another berry from the basket.

  “Do you do what you want?” Gaela asked. She asked quietly, almost in a whisper. Tavera looked at her hands holding the berries before she looked at the ground.

  “Generally, yes,” Tavera said. “Especially as of late.” She let that last bit hang in the air for a moment, leaving it open for interpretation. Gaela turned to her, a slight smile perking at the sides of her mouth.

  “I want to go with you to save the priestess,” Gaela said.

  Tavera almost stopped in her tracks. “What?” she said. “No, you don’t,” Tavera laughed. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “Do you?” Gaela asked. Tavera avoided her gaze and then scrunched her face up, turning down a side street to lengthen their trip to the temple, hoping to talk this out.

  “More than you do,” Tavera said. “Tender and I have dealt with this man who’s taken her and, well…” Tavera looked around and then raised her eyebrows at Gaela, leaning in closer to Gaela to keep her words unheard by others. “The man who has taken Sister Kella is able to use….” Tavera didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t even sure how he had done it. “Something like Wielding.”

  “Something like it?” Gaela asked. They had stopped in a back alley and Tavera perked up her good ear and make sure no one else was within earshot. “You mean like how you made sure no one in the market saw you take those berries?”

  “Not like that at all,” Tavera said, not appreciating the joke. She looked to Gaela, who wasn’t laughing. “This is real power, not sleight of hand or diverting attention.”

  “You mean like this?” Gaela asked. She held her hand up toward a wooden crate, pointing two fingers at it. Tavera watched as Gaela squinted, her hand shaking while still pointing at the box. Something made Tavera’s ears twitch though she couldn’t hear anything, except for the sounds from the main street growing quieter. Tavera held her breath and then jumped. The wooden box fell apart, a pile of splinters on the back alley ground.

  Tavera struggled with words, her mouth hanging open in shock as Gaela sucked in a deep breath, fog slipping past her lips when she exhaled. Tavera realized she was leaning against another crate, gripping the corner of it with her hands. A splinter pierced her skin and she brought it to her mouth, still amazed over what she had just seen.

  “What? What did I just see?” she asked, realizing how silly it sounded once she said it. Gaela thought for a moment, picking up the basket of berries she had set down.

  “Something like Wielding. We don’t call it Wielding where I’m from, and I don’t think it’s the same…concept?” Gaela mused for a moment, looking at the pile of sticks. “It’s like making a fire from flint and tinder, instead of moving a burning log from one hearth to another. Both make fire but they’re different. Do you see?”

  Tavera frowned slightly, thinking over the example given. They were different, she understood that. But how it applied to what she had just witnessed…Tavera looked at the splinter in her finger. “Which one was you doing, the flint or the log?”

  “The log,” Gaela said, in a voice meant to be reassuring. Tavera raised her eyebrows at her.

  “Can you take this splinter out?” Tavera asked. “Perhaps with less…exploding?”

  “Of course!” Gaela put the basket down and held out her hands. Tavera offered Gaela her own, not sure what she was getting herself into. She felt Gaela’s soft hands on hers; Tavera closed her eyes, wondering if she hadn’t made a mistake, envisioning a bloody hand. She winced as she felt a pinch and then a yank. Tavera opened her eyes and frowned. Gaela held the splinter in a small pair of tweezers, smiling at her.

  “
What the Tits, I could have done that!” Tavera exclaimed, pulling back her hand.

  “Then why’d you ask me?” Gaela asked. She cleaned the tweezers on her cloak and returned them to the pouch she wore at her waist.

  “I thought you’d use…what you did, maybe to get it out.” Tavera rolled her eyes at herself, starting to walk down the street. “Can’t you heal? Can you close a wound or fix a broken bone?”

  “My understanding of anatomy is good enough. I could probably help with something like that, if given time.” Gaela nodded as they walked, not caring that Tavera had taken another berry from the basket. “But I can’t just do it all the time, use the power. Just like you can’t take from everybody to get everything you need.”

  “True enough,” Tavera mused, feeling the rain start to fall more heavily just as the temple was in sight. “Though it does taste better when I do take it myself.” She smiled at Gaela and the smile Gaela returned told her the woman knew what she was talking about. “Well, I want you to go with us. Cy’s not expecting it and we need all the kinds of help we can get.”

  “Good!” Gaela said. “I know the stakes are dire but I do want to help. After hearing the map maker’s story, I’d feel terrible knowing I was able to help but didn’t.”

  “I’m hoping Tender will see it the same way,” Tavera huffed, managing a nervous grin in Gaela’s direction. The steps to the temple stood before them but Tavera sighed, looping her arm in Gaela’s and leading her toward the side entrance, where they were meant to go.

  “Who’s this?” Tender asked. Little looked up from his plate, eyes growing wider as he saw Gaela again. Tavera let her pack fall to the ground with a thump before she sat at the table, leaving a space for Gaela to sit by her.