Beneath a Desert Moon

by Mary Hamilton

  “You’re sure? And just how did you come to that conclusion? They’re gone. I trusted you and your leader, and now my family is missing.”

  Ratio said in a soft, soothing voice that Jarek had not heard before, “Martin, your family survived the attack. Keep in mind that others were not so fortunate. We buried the dead and, to my way of thinking they died saving your wife and children. If there are recriminations to be made, then they should be aimed at the king and his minions.”

  Brother Martin’s face betrayed his anguish, but he took a deep breath and nodded.

  Daniel, a robust, hulk of a man, stepped forward. “Come, let’s extinguish this fire and get you to a safer place.” He glanced around the clearing. “It would seem that the countryside is not as safe as it once was.”

  ◆◆◆

  “You are fortunate, my young friend.” The brother, whose name Jarek could not recall, cleaned blood away from the stab wound. “Any closer to your stomach, and you would be safely in the afterlife, I should think.”

  The Azyrean winced as the brother dabbed the area with a wet cloth. “How is Ratio? His cut looked a lot deeper.”

  “Oh, that one will be fine. It would take more than a knife blade to send him on his way.”

  The deep amber torchlight reflected off the walls of the cavern. The smell of roasting meat wafted through the room, reminding Jarek that he had not eaten a complete meal since early that morning. Brother Magnus, the head of the order, stood and cleared his throat. He circled the small area, his hands behind his back, as he spoke. “Let us return to the subject at hand. Those that escaped the raid on your camp, who were they?”

  Jarek turned to Burns, expecting her to respond. Instead she sat and stared back at the elder.

  “We know that Commander West, CeCe, and Corny escaped, along with Brother Martin’s family.” Jarek nodded toward the still upset brother.

  Magnus nodded. “Truth be told, there are very few places in the kingdom today that would count as safe. Certainly, they would not have approached a family at random for shelter—far too risky. They would probably have gone to some previously established or known location. You say that you detoured by the farm and they weren’t there?” He turned to Brother Martin. “Do you know of any other place where your family might go in time of danger?”

  “No. None at all. They knew of our enclave in Ebon Hills but that is also compromised. I can’t think of anywhere else they’d go.”

  The old man stared, his gaze fixed on the floor. “So, these rebels that escaped, what about them? Are there places that they might have gone? Places from their childhood or former lives?”

  Burns responded, “I don’t know. The commander came from humble beginnings. If citizens in general are not to be trusted these days, then I doubt she would risk it. As for Cornelius, I think most of his family is dead as well. The only one I’m not sure of is CeCe.”

  “CeCe?”

  “Yes. CeCe… actually, I think her name is Cecile or something like that. Her surname is Dubois.”

  Magnus nodded, his fingers twirling his beard. “Dubois, you say? I know of such a family. But they were nobility. The duke was killed in a peasant uprising, if I recall correctly. Surely that’s not the same family, though.”

  Jarek jumped in, “Actually, I think it is. Long story. But I do remember the commander and CeCe having words about that.”

  “If that’s the case, then it might be that this CeCe Dubois led the survivors to her family estate. If nothing else, it could be a starting place for us.”

  The Azyrean scratched his ear. “Wouldn’t the king know about the place? And, if so, would she really go there?”

  “Good questions. But as we have no other information, that seems like the place to start.”

  As the conversation faded and the brothers dispersed, Jarek leaned in toward Burns and said in a low voice, “Something’s bothering me. Is it possible that CeCe betrayed us again? Maybe she led the commander and the others into a trap.”

  Burns, her eyes searching the cavern, responded softly, “It’s possible, but I think not.” She turned to face Jarek, a look of desperation in her eyes. “I believe she helped them. I have to believe that.”

  Chapter 25: Ebon Hills

  Jarek lay on his pallet and focused on the dark overhead in the cavern, unable to sleep. Most of the torches had been extinguished for the night. The few that remained lit provided a pale orange light that flickered and danced off the stone walls. Ratio, newly reunited with his fellow brothers, was off doing whatever the brotherhood did when they were together. Burns, situated nearby, had retreated into her own thoughts.

  “You did well by your friend.” Aristan had returned to Jarek’s thoughts.

  No thanks to you. You could have helped, I mean, after all, you are a god, aren’t you?

  “What makes you think I didn’t help?”

  Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that two of us got stabbed and the assassin still vanished and got away.

  “And yet you didn’t die, nor did either of your companions.”

  Are you trying to tell me it was your doing that we survived?

  “How do you know it wasn’t?”

  Jarek could tell this argument was going nowhere. Aristan always had an answer for everything, just like his old boss, Simon Dornan, back in Pangrove. So, why are you here now?

  “As I said, first to praise you for helping your friend. But also, to tell you that things are going to change. Events are in motion that will require more from you.”

  More from me? What else could you ask? I’m already risking my life at every turn. And another thing—when do I get to go home?

  “As for what else I will ask, there is another who will be coming here, a being from your world. Your charge will be to assist him in his task. With regard to going home, well, in the end, you will make that decision yourself. But for now, sleep, rest, and gain your strength. You must work with the brothers to find your companions.”

  If you’re a god, why don’t you just tell me where they are?

  “I don’t work that way. Besides, there is much to be gained if you sort it out yourself.”

  Jarek was certain that he could sense the disembodied voice laughing. Might you at least give us a starting point?

  “You already have one.”

  ◆◆◆

  Magnus pointed to a spot on the worn and yellowed map. “There, if memory serves. It is but a full day’s walk at a brisk pace.” He paused and considered Jarek. “But with a slower gait, we might be well served to plan on a two-day trek.” He moved his finger to a spot on the map with what looked like symbols for trees. “The Cargrove Woodlands are at about the halfway point and will provide ample shelter for the night.”

  Jarek focused on the end of their journey. “This estate, does it still exist?”

  “That I cannot say. In all likelihood, given the time elapsed, the buildings will likely have either been destroyed or fallen into decay and disrepair. But most of the large nobility holdings had a system of underground storage spaces. Some, I am told, even had elaborate escape tunnels for use by paranoid dukes and such. I fear, though, that you will have no answers until you get there.”

  “Is it safe? I mean, will the king’s troops be in that area?” Jarek had serious misgivings about the possibility of an encounter with another assassin.

  “Nothing is safe or certain any more. The best strategy, I believe, will be to travel in such a way as not to draw attention. There is, after all, little possibility for remaining totally out of sight. I suggest that you revert to your previous approach—a family traveling together, a husband,” he nodded toward Brother Martin, “wife,” he glanced at Burns, “and, of course, their child.”

  Jarek didn’t relish the idea of going back to the heavy cloak and hood as a child. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a better suggestion.

  Magnus continued, “Travel during the day. We can procure a small wagon. Set your mule at a slow pace and make no effort
at concealment.” He shook his head. “I confess, though, that it will not survive close scrutiny. The best you can hope for is to cover the distance without attracting attention.”

  “What about traveling at night? Might that be safer?” The Azyrean felt that the fewer people they encountered, the better their chances.

  “I would discourage that. While you might avoid more citizens, anyone or thing that does notice you would be more suspicious—a small group traveling under cover of dark. No, my friends, I think your best option is to travel in the open and hope for anonymity.”

  “What do we do when we get there?” Jarek was unable to stifle his need to have every aspect of the operation planned.

  “You will know when you get there.”

  The old man was beginning to sound an awful lot like the annoying god, Aristan. When all else fails, try being vague.

  Aristan took that opportunity to insert himself into the Azyrean’s thoughts. “Always, complaining, aren’t you? But you already have some answers. First, you know that the buildings themselves are probably gone. And from your current situation, you should sense the possibilities that lie beneath the surface. So, how is this for specificity? What you seek is likely below ground.”

  But something else bothered Jarek. It wasn’t just the location of the buildings or whatever was or wasn’t underground. CeCe had betrayed him once and it nearly cost his life. Even in the days after that, she had remained unrepentant and aggressive. It was only after her brush with the assassin that she showed the least bit of affiliation with the rebels. And even that was the result of her own life nearly being snuffed out. Now that the camp had been raided and most of the rebels who remained in Ebon Hills killed, would she seek to redeem herself with the king? She knew that Jarek and Burns were alive. She knew about the brotherhood. CeCe could easily be at the center of an operation to facilitate once and for all the destruction of the rebels and the brothers.

  Aristan, as though sensing Jarek’s distress, offered a god’s perspective. “She will make her own choices. Just as you will make yours.”

  Chapter 26: Ebon Hills

  The party approached the woodlands as the sun hovered just above the horizon. The western sky was beginning to turn orange and pink with high wispy clouds creating a feathery veil over the orb. The waning moon would not rise for another few hours, so the eastern sky took on a deep sapphire hue. An old mule pulled the rickety wagon, which carried food supplies and blankets.

  “As soon as we set up camp, I’m taking this stupid hood off.” Jarek scratched his head, which sweated and itched beneath its covering.

  Neither of his party members responded. Burns had not regained her sarcastic sense of humor and Brother Martin was pre-occupied—to be expected given that the fate of his family was still unknown.

  “Are we going to have a fire?” Although the cold was not a factor, the Azyrean felt that some light would at least help keep spirits up.

  “Don’t know. I’m not sure it matters.” Martin paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. “There aren’t many folks about at night, especially in the woods. So, we might go unnoticed altogether. And, as for the king’s men, unlikely they’ll be scouting this area after dark. On the other hand, if they are nearby, or if any of his assassins are around, it would draw them in.”

  The answer frustrated Jarek. More nothing. Was there no one around capable of making decisions? “Well, if it doesn’t matter, then I say we make a fire. We can at least heat up our food. And if someone is nearby and finds us, it won’t look like we’re hiding.”

  Burns shrugged, and Martin nodded. Neither seemed inclined to engage in discussion.

  Suddenly, Jarek felt or maybe sensed something. He turned and studied the landscape behind them—nothing there. Probably nothing. But it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like someone or something was following them. He surveyed the horizon behind them again, with the same results. He couldn’t shake the feeling, though. “Maybe we should just skip the fire. The food is fine cold.”

  They pulled up and parked the wagon as the sun dropped below the horizon. Inside the forest boundary, they found convenient shelter within a tight grouping of trees. Not ten meters away, a small clearing provided a grassy spot for the mule to graze.

  As the three settled in, each with their back to a tree trunk, Jarek resisted the urge to remove his hood. Instead, he pulled it tighter, feeling a small bit of security in the covering. His mind returned to the sense he got just before sunset. “I don’t know if it means anything or not, but just before we got to the woods, I had a feeling that we were being followed. I looked but didn’t see anything.”

  Martin turned to the Azyrean. “What do you mean, you had a feeling? What did it feel like?”

  “I don’t know. It was just one of those things. My gut told me something was following us. I looked around, but nothing was there. It was probably nothing.”

  Rather than looking irritated, Martin appeared concerned. He stood and took a few steps in the direction from which they had come. “I’m going to backtrack and have a look. I’ll be back within the hour.” Then he slipped away into the darkness.

  After a moment, the silence became uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Burns. I didn’t mean to get him upset or anything. It’s just that I didn’t want us taken by surprise.”

  “It’ll be okay.” Her voice sounded flat, unconcerned.

  Jarek wanted to talk more. He wanted her to be back the way she was. But the words eluded him. There seemed to be nothing more he could say.

  “She will come back in her own time.” Aristan’s words came soft and uncharacteristically sympathetic. “You are doing well. Time and events will pull her back.”

  Time crept, and it seemed like hours before Brother Martin returned. He slid back into the makeshift campsite silently before speaking. “I saw nothing. Still, let us be quiet tonight. I will look again at first light before we set out.”

  Chapter 27: Ebon Hills

  Jarek slept fitfully. He pulled himself up into a sitting position just as a dull dark charcoal began to replace the pitch blackness of night. The feeling, the uneasiness, the sense that something or someone was keeping pace with them, but just out of sight, put him on edge. He started as Brother Martin suddenly appeared, as though out of nowhere.

  “Still no sign of anything out there,” the brother whispered as he drew close.

  The Azyrean sighed. Maybe it was just his overactive imagination. “Are we going to get started soon?” He had hopes of reaching their destination with plenty of daylight remaining. Maybe some of the buildings remained, and they would find West and the others right away.

  “Burns is preparing the rig. I guess she’s been up for a while, too,” Martin offered as he yawned.

  The day brightened to no more than a dull gray. The blue skies of the prior days had retreated and the dull overcast and chill dominated, both physically and mentally. Brother Martin set a fast pace. After everyone was set, he urged the mule forward. They left the shelter of the trees emerging into more grassy fields. The Azyrean’s mind wandered. These lands, they would be wonderful for farming, in more peaceful times, of course. He tried to picture himself as a farmer. The image produced an odd combination of a laugh and a shudder. Still, the landscape did suggest the possibility of an idyllic existence—growing crops with no one trying to kill him… and no boss like Simon Dornan berating him.

  And then the brother signaled them to a stop and Jarek came back to reality. They stood among some ruins, apparently once a series of buildings. Large cubes of stone lay scattered, some intact but more broken. Encroaching grass covered rotted beams. Martin surveyed the area. “Well, I’d say, based on the map and what we see here… we have arrived.”

  Jarek’s heart dropped. “Doesn’t look like anything or anyone has been around here in years. The entire place looks dead.”

  Burns shrugged and, for the first time, offered encouraging words. “But remember what Magnus said. These places had undergro
und areas. The commander wouldn’t put them all at risk by remaining in plain sight.”

  Jarek rotated, taking in the scene around him. “But I don’t see any kind of access to anything underground.”

  Martin chuckled, although it held little mirth. “That would be the point, Master Whit. If one wanted to remain out of sight, they would not make the entrance obvious.” He criss-crossed the area searching for a way in. “Mm, I think that the entrance will not present itself. Unfortunately, we are going to have to seek it out.”

  The Azyrean divided his attention between the ruins surrounding him and the horizon to the east, from where they had come. His sense of being watched had eased, or maybe he’d just gotten used to it. But so long as they stumbled about in plain view, they would be easy prey for the king’s minions. The memory of his encounters with the assassins returned unbidden and a shiver ran through his body.

  To make matters worse, a drizzle set in. And then darkness approached. Still no entrance. They looked in every nook and cranny. Jarek even got down on hands and knees, inspecting the ground in detail, looking for any sign of a disguised trap door—nothing.

  As the night closed in, Brother Martin called a halt to the survey effort. “Let’s set up for the night. I suggest we sleep beneath the wagon. It’ll keep most of the rain off.” He peered off to the east. “But we need to keep a guard up. Burns and I can swap off duties.”

  Jarek, with some reluctance, offered his services. “I can do my part. That way it will make it a little easier for the two of you.”

  “No offense, Jarek, but that’s not a great idea. If we do get attacked….” Burns didn’t finish her objection. The words trailed off.

  Against his better judgment, he shot back, “If we get attacked, I don’t think it will matter who is on guard.”