Lost Moon

by Dana Davis

“Of course, First Noble. You would not lie to me. The fact that Honor is who you claim explains many things. Things I have overlooked, even from my childhood days. Strange happenings I did not want to think about too much. But she is my father’s mother. I am responsible for her.”

  Patrice didn’t see how he could accept something like that about his own grandmother without indisputable proof. But Jakon’s people and customs were strange to her. As strange as this world.

  “Do you need information from her, First Noble?”

  “No, Jakon. We just need to keep her out of the way until the hoisting. She is strong but I can hold my own against her now, thanks to the scepter. While I am awake, anyway.” She took in Patrice and Larisa’s gazes. “We will need to keep watch in the Hollow, though. She has more experience there and will not hesitate to attack us in our sleep. Larisa, can you give her something to keep her subdued so she cannot use her magic?”

  The blonde healer thought a moment then nodded. “Yes, I believe I have something that will work. I will need a fresh supply of herbs in a few days.”

  Jakon took several strides to Honor and stopped in front of her. “I give you the chance to speak, Grandmother. Is what Kepriah says true? Are you Nyanan? Are you the one who has attacked the Trine?” Jakon leaned close and added something that caused Honor’s eyes to widen slightly.

  When he pulled back, she seemed shaken but she recovered quickly and raised her chin, facing him with defiant eyes. “I am Nyanan. And I will be the one to perform the hoisting. Not those three children you call the Trine. They are too inexperienced. Now, stop this foolishness and cut me free so I can continue my task.”

  Before Patrice could react, Jakon stepped behind his grandmother and swiped a blade across her throat.

  “No!” Larisa bolted for the old woman but she was already on the ground, blood pouring from her neck. “What did you do, Jakon?” Larisa checked Honor’s vitals and tried to suppress the bleeding but the woman was dead. Even Patrice could tell that.

  Kepriah stepped to Jakon as he wiped off his knife and holstered it. “What in hell and Hollow do you think you were doing?”

  He wrenched his eyes from the dead woman and said in a soft voice, “She disgraced my people and the Moirai, First Noble.” His gaze fell on the men and he raised his voice. “By attacking the Trine, my grandmother dishonored our entire tribe, everything we stand for, everything my ancestors pledged their lives for. We were born to protect the Trine, to make certain the hoisting comes to fruition so Selenea can be saved.” He lowered his voice again and spoke to Kepriah. “My ancestors swore unto the Moirai that the chosen of each generation would study the texts in preparation for you and your sisters’ arrivals, that we would do everything in our power to protect the Trine. Everything.” He glanced down at his grandmother’s body. “I had no choice but to offer her life to the Moirai. May the river take her swiftly.”

  Patrice had heard all this crap about honor and duty at Jakon’s village but this was going too far. Her stomach threatened to protest and she barely kept her meager breakfast down.

  She prepared for Kepriah’s temper but the woman simply said, “What do you wish to do with her body?”

  Jakon studied Kepriah for a few seconds. “As soon as the new Nyanan is born, Honor’s remains will turn to dust.”

  Patrice trembled as though the air around her had grown frigid. “How could you do this, Jakon? And how can you go along with it, Kepriah? Yes, Honor attacked us but that’s no excuse for this.”

  Kepriah faced her, blue eyes hard and unforgiving. “Jakon had every right.”

  “I am glad you understand, First,” the man said.

  “Well, I sure as hell don’t,” Patrice said. Her stomach threatened to empty right here on the ground and she avoided looking at Honor’s body. The image of Jakon’s blade swiping across the woman’s throat would stay with her forever. “I don’t care what kind of laws or honor codes you have. It wasn’t right to just kill her like that.”

  Kepriah’s eyes hardened on Patrice again. “That will do. Jakon was protecting us, honoring the Moirai, and defending Selenea. The Moirai will take care of Honor now.”

  “Will you listen to yourself?” Patrice’s hands trembled. “I think you took some brain damage during your kidnapping.” Her eldest sister’s eyes grew steely and anger rapped against her senses.

  Before she could say anything else, Rabbit cried, “Look!”

  They watch as Honor’s body withered and turned to dust just as Jakon had said it would. Even her blood spatters disintegrated until there was nothing left, no evidence a body had ever been there.

  When Jakon’s eyes came up, Patrice saw tear streaks on his face. “Return to the ancestors, Grandmother,” he uttered. “Go with the wind.”

  “Go with the wind,” Kepriah repeated. She studied the men who had pledged allegiance to her. “You have seen what becomes of those who betray the Trine. Remember it well.” She turned and, with Jakon on her heels, walked to the campfire.

  Patrice and Larisa didn’t follow. Instead, the two stood close together, touching elbows. Patrice watched the desert man a moment. She had no idea that he was capable of such an act. But why should it surprised me? He’s a warrior. Warriors kill. It’s what they do best. He seemed so gentle most of the time. Even when he slid the blade across Honor’s throat, there had been no malice on his face. Patrice didn’t want to think about that.

  Jakon exchanged words with Kepriah then disappeared into some nearby trees. That’s when Larisa took Patrice’s arm and led her toward the fire. Neither said a word for a long time, and it wasn’t until a very subdued Gail had the breakfast mess cleaned up that Patrice got the nerve to speak again.

  “What’s he doing?” She nodded in Jakon’s direction. His shadowy figure moved silently back and forth near a large tree.

  Kepriah followed her gaze. “Paying homage to his grandmother.”

  “But he killed her.”

  “She would have killed us.”

  Patrice had tried to put that thought out of her mind every waking minute. No one had ever attempted to harm her until she came to Selenea, and the notion soured her stomach.

  “We are the Trine, Patrice. Get used to that idea.”

  “I am used to it. Sort of.” I’m just not used to Jakon as a killer.

  “We cannot allow people to make attempts on our lives or threaten our magic without consequence.” The words sounded so logical, especially when Kepriah said them. “You should have known Jakon would kill to protect us.”

  Patrice had known that, in theory, anyway. The man swore to protect them, had been born for just that task, and had reiterated that numerous times. Kepriah seemed to weigh her with that steely gaze, yet she felt no anger from her sister this time.

  “Would you rather he slapped her on the hand and let her walk away so she could keep attacking us? Prevent us from doing the hoisting? Destroy this world and Earth along with it?”

  “Of course not. But we could have tied her up or drugged her. Something. He didn’t have to kill her.”

  “Yes, he did.” The words came from Larisa this time, and Patrice didn’t hide her shock. “As much as I hate to admit it, Nyanan would not have stopped coming after our powers. And she would have destroyed us to achieve it. She may have been a revered person at one time but she was insane, or bordering on it. As a healer, I do not condone killing, though I have done it myself. But as a sister of the Trine, I realize Jakon did what he had to.”

  Patrice’s gut clenched at the memory of Damon’s palace. Larisa had saved her from rape and possible death, and Patrice would never forget her sister’s sacrifice.

  Sympathy waved against her senses and Larisa placed an arm around her shoulders. “Jakon is hurting an awful lot. He loved his grandmother.”

  Patrice didn’t know what to say to that. Part of her felt relieved to have such a dependable guard, but another part hated that he had to kill. And he might have to do it again. For the first time, she
admitted to herself that she might have to take a life to protect the Trine. She sat and mulled over those thoughts, while Kepriah conferred with Palith. Then another thought filled her mind, one she was surprised not to catch earlier. “Wait. Jakon said another Nyanan would be born when Honor’s body was gone. Does that mean we’ll have another evil person to deal with?”

  Kepriah shook her head as she stared into the fire. “Nyanan is born innocent, like any babe. Jakon told me.”

  At least that’s something. “But she’ll be powerful, like Honor was.”

  “Yes. And we will find out who she is this time. Nyanan cannot be allowed to live in anonymity any longer. Her powers are too dangerous.”

  Patrice nodded her agreement with that statement and wondered just how they would find such a child. But that was a question for another day. Gail sat by the fire, brushing her long auburn locks, wary eyes on Jakon, and Patrice thought maybe they should treat a future ruler with more respect.

  “You need to rest, Kepriah.” Larisa stood over their eldest sister with hands on her hips and fingers tapping like a silent piano player.

  “I will sleep on my jabber. We need to find that damn boy.” Kepriah eyed Gail, but no one had mentioned why they were after the boy. Even Palith’s men didn’t know the reason, other than they needed him for the hoisting. Kepriah stood and raised a palm to Larisa’s coming argument and the healer clamped her lips shut.

  Before Kepriah’s disappearance, they had agreed to act as one united Trine and not bicker, though that sometimes proved difficult for them. Patrice was in no mood to squabble now, not after what she had witnessed with Honor, and willingly followed Kepriah’s orders. Hopefully, they would find the boy soon and be on their way to the Pewter Throne.

  Wherever the hell that is. So far, every part of Selenea since they left the desert looked the same. I’d be useless out here without them. Or dead. Honor’s death filled her mind again and she could no longer keep her sour stomach under control. She ran to some nearby bushes and puked then spit. Larisa ran after her and she allowed the woman to help her sit on the ground.

  “Gail,” Larisa called over her shoulder. “Bring me some drinking water, please.” The girl obeyed.

  Patrice swished the liquid around her mouth and spit the last of the sour bile onto the grass. “Thanks, Gail.” She offered a smile.

  The girl smiled back. “Need anythin’ else, Healer Larisa?”

  “Can you see that my herbs are packed, please?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” With that, the girl strode back to the fire.

  “She’s changed,” Patrice uttered.

  “I believe your teaching her to read has something to do with that. She is bright, too. Would make a good healer if—”

  Patrice placed a brief and comforting hand on her sister’s arm. “She’ll be fine. She’s a strong girl. Besides, with some food and the right clothes, that mysterious boy might be a handsome catch for her.”

  Patrice didn’t mention what she thought Gail would do once the girl found out about her arranged marriage, and from the doubt that caressed her senses now, she didn’t need to say anything.

  Kepriah stepped toward them, cocked her head at Patrice, and let a crooked smile dance on her lips. “You done? Or do you plan to leave your spleen behind, also?”

  Patrice could see pain behind the humor in her eldest sister’s eyes. The memory of Kepriah’s torture was as fresh as Honor’s death, and she realized she hadn’t been fair to her sister’s suffering. As much as I hate what Honor did to Kepriah, I’m so glad she didn’t kidnap and torture me. A surge of guilt bubbled up about feeling relieved as she studied the warrior woman. “Not if I can help it. I’d like to keep all my parts intact.”

  “Good idea.” If Kepriah felt angry about Patrice’s relief, she didn’t show it.

  Patrice stood with Larisa’s help and faced her eldest sister, eager to put her mind on something else. “I wish we had a nice, padded wagon. My butt is bruised from those damn jabbers.” Both sisters smiled and sympathy caressed her senses.

  “I am afraid your butt will get more bruised before this trip is over.” A touch of sympathy caressed Patrice’s senses as her sister ordered everyone to mount up.

  “First Noble?” Jakon said when he returned from the trees. If Patrice hadn’t known better, she never would have guessed he was grieving. “What about the others you left behind? Will they be searching for—Nyanan?” The word sounded like it stung his lips.

  “I doubt it. Those men were green hires and a couple of over-seasoned warriors. My guess is she messed with their minds to get them to follow her. The younger ones could not find their own asses without help. I do not think we have to worry about them, but be on your guard just in case.”

  “Yes, First. Good to have you back.”

  Something passed between them and Patrice guessed it had to do with their warrior experiences. She had seen them make hand signs to each other and still couldn’t decipher them. Palith and his men used hand signs when they needed to stay quiet and communicate. Palith and Kepriah had known each other from some battle or other, and he was brother to her dead mentor Manry. Kepriah never said more than a few words about how Manry died, but loss found Patrice’s senses whenever his name came up, and she suspected her eldest sister dreamed about him.

  This time, Kepriah gave Patrice her own jabber, one of the slower ones Rabbit had been riding. He rode the one they had used as a pack animal, giving that task over to the jabber Kepriah had brought back from her captivity. “Doesn’t he need a rest?” Patrice said, remembering movies she had seen about tiring a horse until it fell over dead. Jabbers weren’t horses, but they were the closest things on this world.

  Kepriah gave her a weary smile. “He will be fine another day or two. Young jabbers are hardy.”

  Patrice nodded, though she couldn’t tell a young jabber from an old one if her life depended on it. “You sure you don’t want to ride with me?”

  “You have been on a jabber enough times that you will do fine, little sister. And this one will not give you trouble.”

  I sure hope so.

  Gail mounted behind Larisa and soon they were on the trail with Kepriah grumbling as they passed another magical cold spot. Despite her weariness, the woman insisted she could make an archway now that she didn’t have to keep anyone subdued. She didn’t say Honor’s name but everyone knew whom she meant.

  Patrice watched the others and soon had her mount making basic moves right and left. Her jabber seemed content to follow the others and when they ran, he ran. When they walked, he walked. Not a damn thing Patrice did could convince him otherwise, so she did her best not to add misery to her already bruised ass.

  They rode until the sun was at zenith then stopped to eat and rest the jabbers. Dismounting unnerved Patrice just as much as mounting. When her jabber rocked to a kneeling position, she expected to fall right out of the saddle. But she didn’t and soon she had both feet on solid ground. She stretched and massaged her sore muscles.

  Despite the chilled air, the day seemed much warmer than the previous one. At least time hadn’t run ahead several hours out of whack again. Each time that happened, Patrice felt anxiety from Kepriah and Larisa, not to mention her own worries that they would miss the hoisting. At least—and she hated to admit it because she had actually liked the woman—they didn’t have to worry about Nyanan.

  After they ate and started packing up again, the sun moved about two hours across the sky in a matter of seconds, sending a flock of startled birds into flight. Patrice gazed upward, squinting. Damn it. So much for stable time. “That can’t be good.”

  Kepriah eyed the sky and cursed before bringing her gaze back to the map in her hands. “According to this, there is another village just beyond that ridge. Let’s get moving.”

  They mounted again. As she rode, Patrice looked out toward the grassy hills that were still brown from winter, proud that she now could watch something besides her jabber. Having to steer the beast
herself had given her a little more confidence in handling him. Of course, she would never be as comfortable on a jabber as in a car, but if she could ride and look around or chat with others then she had accomplished something. The trees had all but disappeared now and they traveled through farmland. Relics of the war lay here and there but at least there were no bodies.

  Or heads on stakes. They hadn’t come upon any live people, either. Probably fled when the killing started. That’s what Patrice would have done. Then why in hell am I heading into a war zone? I really am out of my mind.

  Her eyes rested on Ched, the oldest of Palith’s men, and the only one who didn’t look like a teenager to her. He was tanned and muscular and handled a jabber as though he had been born on one. He was a handsome man, even with the scar along his nose, and Patrice had always admired good-looking men. I might be stranded on another world but I’m not dead. Or blind.

  Now that they had Kepriah back and she felt safe again, the thought of sex crossed her mind. Ched was a quiet man, reserved, the type Patrice usually liked. She had even seen him read a scroll whenever they stopped for the night. On this world, that probably means he’s a scholar. She hid a smile.

  Perhaps she could get him into bed sometime. The quiet ones seemed to be great in bed, concerned with her pleasure as much as their own. At least, from her experience. Her heart raced and blood began to fill her sensitive parts, despite all the saddle bouncing that had left her bruised down there. Ched turned and caught her gaze. Her cheeks grew hot that she’d been caught watching him but she grinned when he smiled at her. Well, if I let him know I’m interested, maybe he’ll do the rest.

  Despite how much she railed against her mother’s old-fashioned advice that girls weren’t supposed to call boys for dates, Patrice liked when a man made the first move. It was less stressful. And right now, she wished they were alone so Ched could have a chance to make a move. Her mind had them rolling on the grass, laughing and having great sex, some quite imaginative, when her sister’s voice brought her out of her reverie.

  Larisa trotted her beast alongside Patrice’s slower one. “If you do not stop that, I will dunk you in the next lake we come across.” Despite the scolding tone and mild irritation that found Patrice’s senses, there was a hint of a smile on her sister’s lips.