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

by Tim Flanagan

  ‘You go first,’ whispered Joe to Scarlet.

  ‘No,’ replied Scarlet with a reassuring grin, ‘you’re the one the Silver Bough chose, you go. I’ll wait with Raelyn.’

  Joe squeezed Scarlet’s hand, then took the first step. Small rocks continued to rain down from the ever widening wound in the ceiling; some fell harmlessly down towards the river, whilst others shattered against the ground, spraying their legs with sharp stone splinters. Edgar reached out of the doorway as far as he could without putting his foot on the second door and adding to its weight, taking Joe’s hand to pull him across the final part.

  Last to go was Scarlet.

  Raelyn had stayed with her, sending encouraging thoughts into her head. She took a nervous step forward. Another piece of the ceiling fell. As it tumbled and rolled, it caught the ledge they had all been standing on, causing the whole side to slip down under the force. Scarlet fell to her knees. Raelyn instinctively leapt forward onto the second door.

  ‘Scarlet, you must stand up,’ shouted Edgar. ‘Make your way carefully over to us. The tunnel in the rock face is more solid than the ledge.’

  Scarlet lifted herself back onto her feet and took another step forward. Slowly she edged off the first door and onto the second. Above her a low rumbling sound began which very soon became a deafening avalanche of rocks and dry earth. Behind her the ledge was crumbling away and she could feel the ground shaking beneath her feet. The second door began to slip backwards, intent on joining everything else that had tumbled to the river below. Scarlet let out a scream as she looked into Edgar’s shocked face and began to fall backwards. Edgar leapt forward and grasped tightly around one of her wrists, holding her hanging in the air, feet desperately trying to rest on something solid, but finding nothing.

  Edgar pulled. The muscles in his arms began to burn under the strain of holding Scarlet’s weight. Everyone else in the tunnel clamped themselves around his waist and legs securing him to the ground, allowing him to concentrate on pulling Scarlet up. He reached his other hand down, fumbling in the dusty air for Scarlet’s other hand. Something soft and warm brushed against his hand which he instinctively grabbed onto. With an effort Edgar began lifting Scarlet over what remained of the ledge and into the tunnel entrance.

  The rest of the ledge fell away leaving the entrance to the tunnel nothing more than a hole in the side of the rock face. Scarlet sat on the floor of the tunnel feeling exhausted. Raelyn’s head nuzzled playfully into her neck, glad that she was safe.

  ‘There’s no time to rest, I’m afraid,’ Edgar said softly to Scarlet, holding out a hand to help her back to her feet.

  Bothelgrit began making his way down the tunnel. On and on they went until they began to reach more doorways.

  ‘Most of these doors exit onto or around the Arenadra Plains,’ explained Bothelgrit, ‘we are very close to the surface here. When teams of ground dwellers returned from hunting, these exits would provide quick escape routes for them to enter into the safety of the caverns.’

  The Light of Angelist lit up each of the numbered boards above the doors in turn until they reached the one that read 1.1.3.2.7.6. They all stood silently before the door knowing what was behind it. They were about to leave Dragonheart Cavern and enter the Twisted Tower to rescue Peter and face the faerie queen.

  Edgar drew Ethera once again and placed a hand on the door ready to go through.

  35. The Unicorn Rider

  The battle was not going very well.

  Amongst the chaos Prince Chiron was fighting against two donestre at the same time, long swords slashing and blocking in a dizzy blur of shining metal blades. Every time one of the donestre swung at the prince, the other would attack from the opposite side. Prince Chiron twisted constantly, but the donestre were quick and their attack relentless. A hooked blade cut through the air towards his head, which he managed to twist away from, but that took him closer to the second donestre who thrust his sword towards his shoulder. The only way for him to avoid becoming pierced by the donestre’s blade was to step backwards but as he did so, his rear legs stumbled on a fallen soldier, causing him to twist and stagger awkwardly. His body weight landed on his back leg which snapped against the dead body that was lying on the floor. A sharp pain tore through his body causing him to loose concentration on the advancing donestre. But that was the opportunity they needed. A blackened blade drove deep into his chest, ripping and tearing at the prince’s flesh as it was pulled back.

  Prince Chiron could no longer hear the chaos of battle. All he was aware of was the awkwardness of his breathing and the pulsating blood in his head. Even the pain seemed to have eased and given way to a warm comforting feeling that flooded through his veins like a warm blanket. The donestre that stood before him sneered, knowing that the prince was defeated whilst the one that had successfully downed the prince wiped his bloody blade on a piece of blackened leather that covered one thigh, ready to take his trophy, the head of the centaur. Prince Chiron welcomed the peace it would bring him; his eyes flickered across the battlefield, seeing his comrades, watching them fall as orcs swarmed over their bodies. A feeling of anger began to well inside him and he turned once again to look on his executioner who was pulling his sword arm backwards for the large swing that would separate his head from his body. With a desperate effort Prince Chiron lifted his long swords off the ground, despite them feeling heavier than they had ever done before and swung them at the two donestres from opposite angles. They had assumed the centaur was defeated and hadn’t expected him to continue to fight from the ground so had no time to react to the swords as they sliced them both in half like scissors cutting through paper. The donestre’s bodies fell around Prince Chiron. He knew he was still going to die but felt some satisfaction that he had at least managed to remove two more soldiers from the queen’s army. His swords fell to the ground with a clatter, his arms no longer possessing the strength to continue to hold them.

  A centaur hacked his way over to his prince, blocking the swords of orcs and hobgoblins with a scarred golden shield, whilst thrusting his own sword into the soft belly of another.

  ‘My prince,’ he whispered with a tear forming in the corner of his eye as he held Prince Chiron in his blood splattered hands. ‘I will not let you die.’

  Prince Chiron raised his heavy eye lids and tried to focus on the soldier in front of him.

  ‘The shadows are taking me,’ he managed to mutter with a slur.

  The centaur placed his other hand onto the wound in Prince Chiron’s chest, trying desperately to slow the bleeding, but only finding that the warm blood squeezed between his fingers.

  ‘Take my swords and avenge my death,’ he managed to whisper to his centaur brother. ‘The day is not yet done,’ his voice was becoming quieter and broken. He coughed and a small trickle of blood seeped down from the corner of his mouth. ‘We must continue to fight. Give King Arthur’s knight more time. They must stop the queen.’ The effort of his last words took what remaining strength Prince Chiron had and his eyelids closed, too heavy to ever lift again. The strong muscles of his body seemed to slump as the last bit of life drained out of him. The line of centaur royalty ended amongst the dry dust of the Arenadra Plain.

  In another part of the battle, Lord Kullwrath and several other dwarves were fighting together against a group of hobgoblins that had overrun one of the trebuchets. They had climbed up the wooden frame and were hacking at the firing arm with swords and blades, chipping away at the wood to make it inoperable. Lord Kullwrath gathered together other dwarves and together they rolled the trebuchet over to crush the hobgoblins before attacking them with their axes. But a grindel had now approached the wreckage and with a swing of his Flail had managed to demolish what remained of the trebuchet together with several of Kullwrath’s hill dwarves. The grindel gathered in the chain that held the studded metal ball and began swinging it once again to gather momentum for another strike.

  King Conroy had, by now, been unhorsed and was fightin
g side by side with soldiers from his own army as well as some of the ground dwellers. Each had a sword and shield and was continually blocking attacks and thrusting with their sword arms, but the attack was never ending. As soon as one orc had been killed two more appeared to take his place. The intensity of the attack could not be resisted for much longer.

  Above the plains on a ridge that bordered the

  Shadow Road a figure blew into a thin horn, releasing a high pitched sound into the air. Along the ridge black clad figures stood lined up in an orderly row beneath the banners of the fire elves. A wooden cart with a large metal tube was also being wheeled into position. They looked down on the battle that was in progress below them, watching the ever increasing numbers of orcs advancing from the Twisted Tower to join the fight. From the battlefield King Conroy and some of the others looked over towards the ridge. He had heard rumours that the fire elves had pledged to join the queen’s army and had docked their ships at Morgan's Landing, but it now looked like they had arrived to join in the fight. A heavy feeling of hopelessness drove through the king's heart. This wasn’t a battle they could now win. With more orcs advancing from within the battlements of the Twisted Tower and now the fire elves, they were outnumbered many times over. He took a long glance around the Arenadra Plains, looking for any sign of Lady Flora. Her help would certainly be welcome but he had seen and heard nothing from her since she had left to talk with the dragon. All he could do was try and give Edgar and the children as much time as possible to complete their task. Once again he lifted his sword and struck out at the nearest orc, taking its arm from its body, before spinning round to drive his sword deep into the stomach of another.

  The faerie queen continued to watch as the battle raged below her. At the sound of the horn she looked across to the black clothed figures that now stood upon the ridge. Within the black group something white shone out. There seemed to be a solider sitting on the back of a gleaming white unicorn.

  ‘The fire elves have arrived,’ muttered Lord Sliptongue happily from the queen’s side.

  ‘And just in time. Soon the rebellion army will be crushed.’ The queen was pleased to see the arrival of the fire elves, together with the second surprise she had for King Conroy’s army. By the end of the day she knew that there would be no one left to oppose her, her numbers were too great for the king’s army to defeat.

  ‘I cannot see any of the giant volcano elves that were promised, nor the elephants, my queen. They do not appear to be as well equipped as was rumoured,’ Lord Sliptongue snivelled.

  ‘It is no matter. They have the fire weapon. When the king sees it in action, he will know he is beaten. Until now, I have only heard of this weapon, but today we will witness its power and King Conroy of the Goraneans will feel its wrath.’ The queen let out a laugh as she leant on the side of the window to gain a better view, whilst Lord Sliptongue sniggered from between his teeth.

  The unicorn rider picked up a flaming torch and approached the fire weapon. A metal ball was rolled into one end of the barrel, then the rider reached over and touched the other end gently with the flaming torch. An orange flame licked inside the barrel of the cannon and pushed the metal ball out at such a great speed that it flew into the air and landed with a loud thud amongst the approaching orcs. As soon as it hit the ground, it exploded in a burst of flames and black smoke, wiping out whole sections of orcs in one go. Where the cannon ball had struck, it appeared to have opened up a massive hole beneath the ground. Lose soil and rock tumbled away taking more of the queen’s army with it.

  ‘They’re firing at the wrong side,’ spat the queen in a fury. ‘They will destroy all of my army with that thing!’ As she spoke, the remaining orcs lifted up the queen’s seven-sided star banners to indicate whose side they were fighting on, hoping to prevent any more mistakes being made.

  The fire elves remained where they were, watching from a safe distance. The unicorn rider once again touched the cannon with the torch and released a second ball. This time the angle the ball flew through the air at was different, but it still wasn’t aimed at King Conroy’s army. This time it landed nearer to the Twisted Tower, destroying the outer perimeter walls and a troop of hobgoblins that were marching forward. Clumps of earth showered everything within a short distance and even the queen and Lord Sliptongue could feel the vibration of the explosion as the tower shook slightly beneath them.

  ‘Even if they couldn’t see the banners, they would certainly know that this is your tower, your grace,’ said Lord Sliptongue sarcastically. ‘It seems the fire elves have taken up arms against you.’

  A look of absolute rage swept over the queen’s face. She lifted up Pendreich's Bane, her magical runestaff, and muttered some words into the air. A black feathered raven flew to the ledge in front of the window. The queen placed her free hand on the bird’s head and closed her eyes, continuing to mutter a spell beneath her breath. The crow leapt from the ledge, flapped its wings several times and soured into the sky towards the remaining daughters of sirens. In the black eyes of the raven, the sirens recognised the queen’s magic and followed the bird as it flew away from the battlefield towards the

  Shadow Road. From above, through the eyes of the crow, the queen could see rows of black figures and in the centre the white unicorn with what looked like a child sitting upon on his back. Behind the black clothed men, others in green camouflage began notching arrows in their bows, pulling their strings back and aiming them into the sky. A sea of arrows flew towards them, taking the raven and the sirens down in one go. The queen staggered backwards in her tower as the raven plummeted towards the ground. She had seen what she needed to see. Lord Sliptongue reached out to steady his queen, but she brushed him aside, preferring to lean on her staff for support than the bony arm of an old man.

  ‘It’s an ambush,’ she stuttered in disbelief. ‘The fire elves have joined with the Green Huntsmen.’

  36. Amongst the Dungeon’s Shadows

  As Edgar pushed on the door from inside the tunnel, he noticed that it didn’t swing in or out but actually slid to the side slightly, leaving a gap that was just big enough for them to squeeze through. Bothelgrit slipped the Light of Angelist beneath his clothing so that they could enter the tower more discreetly. They stood and waited silently in the darkness while Edgar cautiously took a look through the gap before moving out. The room that the door led into was dimly lit by candles and lamps, orange flames flickered across the black wall stones. Edgar swept around the room, carefully placing his feet as quietly as he could on the stone floor, whilst checking every corner. The roof was one long curve and seemed to be made up of the same black stone as the walls. Wooden crates were stacked in places. Explosions outside shook the ground making some old chains hanging from hoops secured in the walls to rattle uncontrollably. There were also various weapons hanging on the walls that Edgar did not recognise and could only wonder at their purpose. On the opposite side to the secret doorway were vertical metal bars and a gate which was accessible via several stone steps. Edgar crept over to the gate which opened into a damp corridor, once again checking in both directions.

  He couldn’t see or hear anyone else in this part of the tower.

  At various intervals along the sides of the corridor, were more rooms with metal bars filling the gap between curved ceiling and floor. It seemed that the queen had removed every able bodied soldier to fight for her, including her guards. He went back over to the wall where the secret door was hidden. He could only tell where it was when Ralphina’s head poked out. The blackness of the tunnel merged so perfectly with the black stone of the wall that you wouldn’t have known it was there. Edgar beckoned for them to come out.

  ‘I think we’re in the dungeon,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s see if we can find Peter.’

  They stepped out one by one into the room.

  ‘My sister Lupa might also be here,’ Ralphina said to Edgar, ‘but I cannot feel her presence, or that of her wolf.’

  ‘We will look fo
r her too,’ replied Edgar reassuringly.

  To the right the corridor met a large stone staircase, whilst to the left were more barred cells. The group held onto their weapons as they stepped out into the corridor. They stayed as close to the wall as they could, keeping hidden amongst the shadows as much as possible. Edgar checked every cell for occupants before they passed it, whilst all the time keeping alert for any sign of danger.

  Suddenly, from the cell nearest to the staircase, a rustling sound broke the silence within the dungeon. It may have been a rat exploring the corners of the dungeon for food, but everyone stood still, holding their breath and not daring to make a sound. Edgar crossed the centre of the corridor and pushed himself up against the opposite wall. He shuffled along until he was alongside the start of the metal bars of the furthermost cell. Once again he peered round the side of the stone wall and into the cell. A single candle flickered in the centre of the room, lighting up the old straw that covered the floor, but the rest of the room remained in darkness, the corners cast in shadow. The only sign that there was an occupant in the room was the empty plate and beaker that were behind the locked gate. Edgar reached up and removed a flaming torch from the bracket in the wall then stood in front of the cell bars shining the warm orange glow into the cell to see if it was occupied.

  ‘Who are you?' asked a weak voice from a dark corner of the cell.

  ‘Show yourself,’ instructed Sir Edgar, cautiously gripping the handle of Ethera in case it was a trap.

  The distant thuds of war continued beyond the tower walls, but from inside the cell the occupant remained silent and hidden. Raelyn prowled up and down behind Edgar. The rest of the group had also crossed the corridor and were now standing against the opposite wall. Ralphina took another torch and approached the cell to stand next to Edgar.