The Moon Stealers Box Set. Books 1-4 (Fantasy Dystopian Books for Teenagers)

by Tim Flanagan

  ‘Do you think Peter’s actually in there?' Joe asked Scarlet, his nervous voice finally breaking the silence.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Scarlet whispered back. ‘None of us could have imagined that it would ever come to this. Every extra day we stay here is another day the Moon Stealers are destroying our own world. And every day makes it more and more likely that our parents could be dead... ’ Scarlet’s voice faltered as the final word stuck in her throat like it was going to choke her. Joe couldn’t do or say anything that would make it better. He had been thinking about his own family too and wondering if they had survived and how he was going to find them when everything was over.

  If it was ever over.

  Joe squeezed Scarlet’s hand tightly, reassuring himself as much as her, but he found that he had also squeezed a single salty tear that ran from the well of his eye down his cheek.

  Unknown to the children, Ralphina was also feeling nervous about the impending battle and had also joined them on the balcony. She leant over the side and looked down at the forest far below, feeling the wind rushing up the mountain side brushing her hair away from her head.

  ‘The first and second divisions of the Goranean army have left the rock,’ she said pointing towards the forest. Joe and Scarlet stepped forward and looked down to where Ralphina was pointing. At first they couldn't see anything, but then, occasionally, they saw a glint of metal as columns of soldiers moved through the forest like the glistening backs of snakes extending from within the mountain. There was a repetitive thudding as hundreds of feet struck the ground at the same time as each other, as well as metallic clinks from swords, shields and armour.

  ‘They’re heading for the fortress at Dragonheart Cavern, an ancient but abandoned kingdom of the ground dwellers, before they moved to the northern mountains,’ continued Ralphina. ‘The army needs a base for themselves that is closer to the queen than the Rocks of Goran and our scouts have reported that there is a small garrison of the queens soldiers camped within the ruins. The soldiers are said to be grindels, who don't get on with donestre nor orcs, so moved to Dragonheart Cavern several night falls ago. By the end of this night we will have it for ourselves and the war will have begun. It will only end in our destruction or the queen's.’

  A knock on the door echoed within the room. Ralphina let a fat Goranean into the room. He had the white clothing that Anjela and the others wore, but his gown, which was stretched around his large stomach, had a thick strap over it that fell from each shoulder across his chest. The straps had many symbols and writing on that even Ralphina was unfamiliar with. Around his mouth and hanging below one of his chins was a silvery beard that twisted and turned as the long thin strands fell towards the ground. Behind him a younger Goranean had piles of papers stacked on top of both arms, obscuring his vision and causing him to peer around the tower of paper that looked like it was at risk of collapse at any time. Fortunately, he successfully managed to place the pile onto the floor, turned, bowed his head slightly to the larger man, and left.

  Joe and Scarlet left the balcony and entered the room, intrigued to know who this man was and what he had brought them.

  ‘I have been requested by our most gracious king, the first of his name and the wisest of all Goraneans, King Conroy The Enlightened, to present to you the papers we have collected on the existence of the portals between our two worlds. I am Symen, Master teacher and Keeper of the Records within the rock, and it would be an honour for me to assist you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Scarlet who had already bent down and started to examine the top sheet from the pile. The paper was thick and yellowed and had black swirling writing all over it, together with small drawings along the margins. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand the language this is written in.’

  ‘Please allow me,’ replied Symen with a smile over his thick lips. ‘It’s an ancient language that very few people can read anymore.’ He cleared his throat for dramatic effect and began reading: ‘This is an extract from the Book of Ledger when all taxes and income from different communities across the land were recorded. Many communities that lived near to a portal benefited from greater wealth than those that didn’t, as they traded with the travellers from your world.’ Symen ran his finger down the writing as he scanned its contents. ‘This part here, for example, shows that over four seasons the wealth of a small town called Middle Rommarsh grew at a faster rate than those around it and had begun producing different kinds of metalwork and magic charms when previously it had only been a small community of ibex breeders.’

  ‘So Middle Rommarsh had a portal within its town?’ asked Joe, surprised at how simple it should be to find the location of a portal.

  ‘Possibly, but not necessarily. The portal could have been within the town, or Middle Rommarsh could have been the first town that travellers came to after entering this world through the portal. We also need to look at the network of roads, paths and tracks in the area at that time. Changes to the flow of rivers and the shifts in the ground beneath our feet, alter the shape of the land over time and so the roads change also.’ Symen stopped and looked at the three of them before giving them another smile and continuing: ‘fortunately I have also brought along a selection of maps from different years so that we can see how the country has changed. Although map drawing skills have improved over recent years, back in the time of the Book of Ledger the artists had very little guidance on the distance between towns and tended to concentrate a lot of their information on areas that they were familiar with, such as the places where they were born. Sometimes the layout of the map looks very different to how we know it looks today.’

  Symen unrolled a long sheet of paper that showed the Rocks of Goran at the centre and all the lands surrounding it.

  ‘This is how our lands look today. We must concentrate our search to this area and try and work out the most likely places where portals might be.’

  They began by organising the maps into date order and spreading them across the floor, placing small carved ornaments onto the corners to hold them down. Symen then began reading the pages aloud whilst Ralphina and the children discussed over the maps where the portals could be, altering and changing the locations as they progressively moved from one map to another and onto the present day map.

  By nightfall, the stars in the ceiling shone brighter mimicking the stars in the sky beyond the balcony. Around the maps were assorted plates of food that had been brought to them from the kitchens. Although Symen seemed to be surrounded by more plates than most he continued to read despite bits of food tumbling from his lips and bouncing off his round stomach.

  By the time Edgar appeared, they had narrowed their search for portals down to three possible locations; one was the one they came through in the clearing above Firewood Forest. The other two were to the east of the Rocks of Goran, one of which was in a small village off the

  Shadow Road which linked the Twisted Tower to the sea.

  28. The Fortress at Dragonheart Cavern

  The line of soldiers continued forward long into the night. They had been walking constantly since they left the Rocks of Goran and ventured into the forest that lay between the mountain and the abandoned fortress at Dragonheart Cavern. There were two divisions of the Goranean army sent on this assault to clear the way for the rest of the army. It consisted of archers and foot soldiers, all accompanied by lords on horseback. As they got nearer they covered their shiny armour by a black cloth overcoat that also had the flaming phoenix of the Goraneans stitched in red. The procession moved on slowly, only stopping once for refreshment and to allow the soldiers at the back of the procession to catch up and regroup before the final push towards the fortress. No fires were lit at the temporary camp and the soldiers sat down wearily on tree stumps or soft moss, silent with anticipation. They could not let the grindels know of their approach so the horses were left with a stable hand that remained at the camp and would not take part in the battle. Everyone else got back onto their feet and started
to walk forward once more.

  Dragonheart Cavern had once been the ancient home of the ground dwellers before they moved into the northern mountains following a devastating plague and sickness that destroyed half of their numbers. Woken by the Dwellers' continual expansion of tunnels and caverns deep beneath the earth, tales of old said that a Red Horned Dragon had been woken and was still thought to patrol the tunnels. All that remained of the fortress above ground was the skeletal structure of part palaces, whilst the caverns below had been sealed.

  There had been a lot of nervous mutterings running up and down the ranks of soldiers as they got closer to the caverns: fear of awakening the dragon once again, as well as fear over the grindels that awaited them. A grindel was a deadly creature that stood twice the size of a Goranean, hoofed and clawed with toothed jaws that could cut through armour as easily as tearing a hunk of meat from a slow cooked pig. They could run fast when they were on all fours if they wished, but fighting was done when they were standing erect. Their weapon of choice was an adapted Flail, a large steel ball studded with spikes that they swung from long chains - meaning they could attack large numbers of people over a wide area. The only disadvantage the grindels had was that they often hunted and fought within small packs of just four or five and the Goraneans outnumbered them one hundred to one.

  As they got closer to Dragonheart Cavern, the lines of soldiers silently spread out to form a circle of small groups around the forest edge surrounding the ruins. The attack was to come from all sides at the same time, slowly closing in on the grindels like a snake tightening its grip on its prey.

  Lord Jvoric was leading the army and it was his responsibility to give the signal to attack when everyone was ready. He moved the small band of soldiers that had remained with him at the south side of the ruins beneath a clump of trees on the edge of the forest and lay on his stomach with his men, patiently watching for any sign of movement from within the fallen stone pillars of the fortress. At first all seemed quiet and deserted, but then he heard the deep, throaty breathing of a grindel. The tall, muscular figure circled aimlessly around the ruins, guarding whilst the others slept. Breath and snot blew forcefully from its nostrils like an enraged bull. From where he was, Lord Jvoric couldn’t work out how many other grindels there were but he knew that as soon as the attack started the others would show themselves. He gave the signal to the band of brothers to his right and waited. Every group was instructed to signal when they were ready to their brothers on their right until Lord Jvoric received a signal back to him from the brothers on his left. He then knew the circle was complete and the snake was ready to squeeze.

  While he waited, his archers pulled an arrow from the pouches across their backs. The specially adapted arrow heads were larger than normal with curved hooks either side of the arrow shaft to prevent it from coming out once it had hit its target. Some were also attached to thick twine that, once it had punctured the grindel’s skin, could then be used to pull the creature to the floor where it would be more vulnerable. The surface metal of the arrow heads as well as the swords had been dulled to prevent reflection in the moonlight and make their surprise attack more effective.

  The signal finally came back full circle to Lord Jvoric. His stomach tightened but he couldn’t show his men that he was as nervous as they were, so nodded confidently to the line of archers behind him. In unison they lifted themselves off the ground and knelt on one knee, their bow string stretched taught as they notched their arrows and took aim. Lord Jvoric knew he had to give the signal. If he delayed, the archers' arms would get tired quickly and their aim as well as their confidence would soon leave them. He gave a second nod and the arrows left the bows and arched from within the trees, spitting from between leaves and long grasses that got in their way until they thudded into the unsuspecting grindel's thick chest, knocking his shoulders backwards with the force.

  The once peaceful night air was carved in two by an enormous roar, so loud that it left a ringing in Lord Jvoric's ears. The grindel stumbled slightly as it leapt like a cat over to a where it had left its Flail, despite at least five arrow shafts protruding from its chest. On the opposite side of the circle more arrows flashed through the air and slammed into the back of the grindel as it slowly started to swing the Flail in ever quickening circles around its head ready to attack. The force of the impact knocked his already weakened body against a stone pillar that crumbled under his weight causing the spiked metal ball of his Flail to thud harmlessly into the ground in front of him, kicking up a small cloud of dust and earth into the air. As he fell, the force pushed the wooden shafts of the arrows still further into his chest, piercing his lungs and finally killing him.

  As soon as the grindel guard had given his deafening roar, three other grindels had stood up and immediately began swinging their Flails above their heads, alert to the presence of danger. One let his loose, tearing it into the undergrowth at the edge of the ruins, cutting and splintering the smaller tree trunks and kicking up sods of earth where it bounced off the ground, before he pulled it back ready to swing it once again. More arrows burst from between the trees, but the grindels were using the remains of the stone walls and pillars for protection. Another unstoppable metal ball spun out, hidden from behind a staircase that went upwards to nowhere, the ball striking into the row of Lord Jvoric’s archers swatting them aside in a bone crunching swing that left them crashing against trees or lifelessly onto the ground. The grindel then charged from behind the staircase in the same direction as his Flail, dashing over ground and leaping over stone with incredible speed. He burst through the foliage at the edge of the forest before the remaining archers had time to notch another arrow into their bow. The wide bull-like face glared at the soldiers, small black eyes darting from one to another before he began ripping and tearing at every fleeing Goranean he could reach with his large clawed hands and toothed snout. Some of the braver soldiers, led by Lord Jvoric, decided to fight the grindel back into the ruins to prevent it escaping and slashed at the grindel with their swords, deflecting its blows with their shields. But their reach was not long enough and they were finding it hard to get close enough to make an effective strike. An archer jumped onto the thick bare shoulders of the grindel and pulled an arrow in his bow then fired it directly into the base of the grindel’s skull, going straight through the brain with the arrow-head finishing by pointing out of one of his wide nostrils. He fell forward with a loud thud onto the ground to be finished off by the foot soldiers and their swords. Lord Jvoric then charged forward, sword held aloft in the air, leading the remains of his band of soldiers amongst the ruins and into the fight.

  Lord Jvoric leapt onto a stone platform so that the surrounding army could see the signal to advance. He swung his sword arm in the direction of the nearest grindel. Foot soldiers emerged out of nowhere from amongst the trees of the forest and closed in. The grindel appeared slightly larger than the others and was armed with a long shafted wooden Pike as well as the Flail he swung around his head waiting for the attackers to come closer. On top of the platform Lord Jvoric was an easy target silhouetted against the night blue sky. In the split second that Lord Jvoric saw the calculating look in the grindel’s eyes he realised what danger he had put himself in but didn’t get chance to react as the steel tipped Pike, thrown from the grindel's powerful arm, cut through his armour, tore into his flesh and came out through his back, lifting him from the platform to land lifelessly on the dust.

  On north side of the ruins another grindel had broken out of the ruins and into the circle of soldiers at the edge of the forest. It had begun attacking the Goraneans, throwing them against the stone ruins like a dog with a rag toy. Archers from around the north side could not release their arrows at the grindel for fear of hitting their own soldiers, but a small group of foot soldiers had managed to creep through the thicker tall grasses to approach from behind. One of the soldiers stood up and sliced at the gristle and muscle across the back of the grindel's knees, severing the hams
trings in a spout of blood. The grindel fell uncontrollably to the ground, no longer able to support its own body weight on legs that wouldn't function. But it didn’t give in so easily, the arms continued to claw at its attackers and the mouth snarled and snapped at any arm or leg that came within striking distance. But the Goranean swords soon began to hack at the grindel until it was silenced.

  The last remaining grindel, the largest of the four, was watching its attackers carefully. The Flail was still spinning from one of its hands, whooshing as the metal ball swung round and cut through the air. He knew that as soon as the Flail was released, he would be vulnerable to attack from the soldiers. His only chance of survival would be to carve a path through the Goraneans and retreat back to the Twisted Tower.

  He examined his surroundings. The ruins of a wall behind him led towards the edge of the fortress and into the forest. He slowly moved backwards until he could feel the cold wall touching his back all the time ignoring the shouting and jeering from the Goranean attackers, thinking that he was cornered and vulnerable now that he was trapped against the wall. Instead he lowered the Flail spinning it faster and faster whilst all the time stepping to his left and nearer to his escape route into the forest. If a sword or a soldier got too close, the grindel would swing faster and wider, shattering metal or bone but all the time keeping the soldiers a safe distance away while he constantly moved closer to the forest.

  The ball slammed into the remains of a stone pillar showering rubble on to the heads of the soldiers, momentarily scattering those nearest to the grindel. He took some more steps towards the forest, growling and snarling at the soldiers, and then released the Flail into them, breaking bodies in two and crushing skulls against stone. As soon as the Flail had left his hand he leapt with all the power and speed he could find onto the end of the wall, using it as a platform to launch himself into the dark green cover of the forest and away.