by Nathan Roden
Simon lost one of the boots. When he doubled back to find it, he heard someone yell.
“He was here! He was in this cave!”
Simon swore to himself. That was one more hideout that he could no longer trust. That list was growing too long.
The people of the kingdom figured out the secret of the full moon a year ago.
They had found him again.
Simon was about to give up when he spotted the shank of the boot. He grabbed it on the run. The hunters were far too close for him to take the time to put the boot on, so he held it against his chest as he made his way toward the tree-line. He had flown over this mountain many times in the dead of night and he knew it well. Unfortunately, his bare feet were now all-too human. He clenched his teeth together and ignored the pain. He planned to use the rock-face on this side of the mountain to avoid being tracked. This tactic had saved his skin more than once.
He heard the sounds of pursuit behind him. Simon knew that many others had heard the horns and were on their way. He scrambled into the rocks and ran parallel to the tree-line.
“I see him! Above the trees! Look at the moon!” the shouting came from below.
Simon looked up. The full moon was behind him—providing the perfect backdrop for his silhouette.
“Is your only purpose to curse me?” Simon said to the night sky. He turned to run again, but he stepped into a pile of loose stones. His right leg shot out from under him and he began to slide. Simon fought back a cry when his ankle twisted. He dropped the boot again. A strong hand grabbed his wrist.
It is finally over. Simon closed his eyes.
“Lousy time for a nap, Mate,” a voice said.
“Boone,” Simon said. “I had given up on you.”
“I can’t blame you, there,” Boone said. “I was a member of this hunting party ‘til an hour ago. I had to knock out two of my neighbors to get here.”
Boone pulled Simon to his feet. He gave him the boot.
“There are horses tied up less than a mile from here. We’d best be moving. They could be coming from all directions now.”
Simon and Boone abandoned the rock-face and fled into the trees. There was no more reason to be quiet. They halted for a moment when they heard the unmistakable sound of hounds in the distance.
“They’re getting better at this,” Simon said.
“You bet they are,” Boone said. “Every man in the Kingdom wants your head. And you have this nasty little habit of screaming loud and blowing flames into the air.”
“Tell me about the Witch,” Simon said as they dodged among the trees.
“Lady Magdalena was still—” Boone said.
“She’s no lady,” Simon spat. “And I’ll have worse names for her than ‘witch’ when I get my hands around her neck. Will they still have her under the watch of the King’s Guard?”
“They’re posting only two or three of late,” Boone said, breathing heavily. “They believe that you’re no longer a threat. They think they’re close to catching you. There are the horses. Hurry!”
Boone and Simon untied the reins and mounted the horses as arrows flew past their heads. The hounds drew nearer. The men leaned against their horse’s necks and let them find their own way through the dense forest. The sounds of the hunting party grew faint and distant. The forest gave way to patches of green fields, and eventually small running streams. The horses slowed and drank. The barking of the dogs grew nearer again, and came from two directions.
“We can’t let them surround us or we’re done for,” Boone said.
“How close are we to the main road?” Simon looked around.
An arrow struck a tree next to Simon’s head.
“Not close enough,” Boone said. He pointed back up the mountainside.
“We’ll have to go back into the trees.”
Once again they put distance between themselves and the hunters. The horses continued to weave through the trees until the forest grew sparser. Simon saw smoke in the distance. They were nearing the village. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“We’re almost there, old frien—”
An arrow thrummed past Simon’s head and pierced Boone’s horse. A moment later, Boone cried out in pain. He clutched his side, and the quill of an arrow. His horse fell.
“NO!” Simon yelled.
Simon jumped to the ground. The hunters were closing in.
“Simon,” Boone whispered. “I’m shot.”
“I see that,” Simon said. “But you’re going to have to help me get you on my horse—or we’re both dead.”
“Go. I’m done for.”
“Hold your tongue. I’m not leaving my only friend in the world to this bunch.”
Boone looked down at his blood-soaked hand.
“I don’t think a Healer can save me, Simon.”
“No,” Simon said. “We’ll need magic this night.”
The ground rumbled beneath them.
“We may have magic with us, after all,” Boone said.
Simon’s horse lowered itself to the ground. The horse nuzzled his companion as the wounded horse breathed its last. Simon hurried to help Boone onto his horse’s back.
They reached a fast-running river without seeing more arrows. The horse tried to take them into the water. Simon pulled on the reins.
“The river is too deep here, Boy. Let’s find shallow water.”
The horse was insistent. It plunged them into the deep water and quickly covered a great distance. They heard no more sounds from the hunters. Simon patted the horse’s side.
“I’m sorry I doubted your judgment, my good fellow. It won’t happen again.”
Five
The late night was silent except for the occasional distant wolf howl, barking dog, or whinny from a restless horse. Simon supported most of Boone’s weight while Boone continued to bleed. They stopped in the shadows of a dwelling; the home of the Sorceress, Magdalena.
“It is true, then,” Simon whispered. “Her home has been clad in the King’s steel.”
He rapped the wall with his knuckles.
“I suppose I should feel honored.”
“Aye,” Boone grimaced. “I see but two guards—and they are prepared for nothing, except to sleep.”
“I’m going to have to lower you to the ground, my friend,” Simon whispered. “Are you ready?”
Boone nodded. He whimpered and moaned as Simon lowered him to his backside. He exhaled and leaned against the wall.
“I am sorry, Simon. We were going to steal more books tonight—and I’ve gone and got myself shot.”
“It is not stealing. I only mean to borrow them for a while. Your language skills still need work, but we will worry about that later.”
Boone winced and nodded.
“Hold steady, Friend,” Simon said. “I’ll make quick work of these two.”
“Wait,” Boone said. “Take my sword. I have no use for it.”
Simon showed Boone the farmer’s short sword.
“I’m better off with this,” Simon said. “I had one just like it in the days of—when I was just a boy.”
“Where did you get that hideous thing? From some wash-woman?”
“That’s not a bad guess.”
Simon crept to the corner of the house. He picked up a stone and threw it into the trees. The guards straightened up. One of them crept toward the edge of the woods. The other stayed and guarded the entrance.
Simon hugged the wall of the house and held the short sword in front of him. He grabbed the guard at the door around the head—covering his mouth. Simon started to whisper in the man’s ear to be silent, but the men bit down on his hand. Simon cried out in surprise and pain. The guard’s last decision had sealed his fate. Simon closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and drove the blade into the guard’s back.
“Look out, Simon!” Boone said, weakly.
The other guard ran to his partner’s aid. He raised his sword over his head. He paused when he heard Boone’s cry.
His mouth was still open when the dagger flew into it. The guard crumpled to the ground.
The dagger throw took the last of Boone’s strength. He toppled to his side—snapping the shaft of the arrow.
Simon slapped Boone’s face and begged him to wake up, to no avail.
Simon stood. He walked to the door and stood to the side. He banged his fist against it. He flexed his fingers as he heard the door latch operate. A woman’s head appeared.
Simon’s long-time dream came true.
His fingers squeezed the neck of the sorceress who had cursed him.
Lady Magdalena fought against Simon as he pushed her inside. He shoved her into a chair and pulled a length of rope from his waist. Magdalena continued to struggle. Simon held her arms and looked about the room.
“I do not intend to hurt you. I need you alive. But I notice that the inside of your home is still quite….vulnerable. Quite… flammable. You do not want me to be here when tomorrow’s moon rises.”
“What do you want?” Magdalena spat.
Simon chuckled.
“I want many things—but not on this night!”
Simon continued to bind the woman to the chair.
“What do you think I can do while bound to a chair? Sing for you?”
“I have to go outside and get something,” Simon said. “And I, of all people, know that you cannot be trusted.”
“If you’ve killed my guards, you have little time to accomplish anything. We both know that you won’t kill me—your curse is bound to me.”
Simon leaned close to Magdalena’s face. She turned away.
“It is true. I have considerable restraint while in my human form, My Lady. But remember this—countless days and nights I have shivered in an empty darkness. There have been nights when my hunger is so strong that nothing matters to me more than my next meal. In those moments, while my body regains strength by consuming another’s flesh—when my thoughts grow still and I am aware of the innocent blood that drips from my mouth onto the cold ground—
“In those moments, my foul mood knows no limits and I yearn for death.
“In those moments, I could snap your neck without a second thought, and then plunge myself into the deepest sea.”
Simon dragged Boone through the door and laid him on the floor in front of the sorceress.
“You will help him, or at the next moon we shall fly to Valhalla together.”
“Untie me,” Magdalena said. “Get him on the table and strip him down.”
Simon drew Boone’s sword. He stared at Magdalena as he leaned the sword against the hearth. He untied her. Magdalena examined Boone’s wound.
“Don’t even think about—”
Magdalena did not look up.
“I possess an outstanding memory. I have not forgotten your threats. I need for you to be silent.”
Magdalena gathered containers from her cupboard and sprinkled them into a cauldron. She chanted unintelligible words. Boone began to stir, and to moan.
“Open his mouth,” Magdalena said.
Simon lifted Boone’s head with one hand. He spread Boone’s jaws open with the other. Magdalena poured some liquid from a cup down Boone’s throat while she continued to chant. Boone swallowed. He coughed. He began to shake.
“You will have to hold him,” Magdalena said. “There will be a great deal of pain.”
Simon held Boone’s hands and laid his weight across him. His face was inches from the shaft of the arrow. Magdalena resumed her chants. They became quicker and louder.
The sorceress dipped a ladle into the steaming cauldron. She held it above Boone’s side and began to pour. Her chants turned into shouts. The liquid sizzled as it hit Boone’s flesh. His back arched in agony. He screamed and bucked against Simon’s grip. It was all Simon could do to keep Boone on the table.
Six
Simon struggled to breathe. Blood ran down the length of his forearms where Boone clawed at him. The smear of blood made holding Boone even more difficult.
Boone bucked against Simon’s grip until he grew weak. Magdalena continued to chant. She refilled the ladle and poured again.
Boone quivered under Simon’s grip. The end of the arrow shaft vibrated. Its movements became more intense until it was moving too fast to see. Boone cried silently and tears rolled down his cheeks. He was too exhausted to scream or to buck any more.
Simon could not take his eyes from the arrow. The skin on Boone’s side glowed red. White, oily smoke poured from the hole in his side.
The shaft of the arrow grew longer. It grew longer still. It grew to the length of a man’s hand until the edge of the arrowhead appeared. When the widest of the arrowhead exited Boone’s body, he arched his back and screamed. He fell back to the table, unconscious.
The arrow clattered to the floor.
Magdalena stumbled back to the chair and fell into it. Simon put his hand across Boone’s chest. He felt his friend’s heart beating strong.
“Will he live?”
Magdalena laughed.
“Of course, he will live—as surely as you will continue to cross the sky save for one damnable night at the full moon. You have somehow managed to make one friend. How did you accomplish this?”
“Do not think that you have earned the right to interrogate me, Witch.”
Magdalena dismissed the remark with a wave of her hand.
“I have been called every foul name in six different tongues, Son of Bailin. Do not think—”
Simon whipped the sword toward Magdalena’s neck.
“Do not ever address me that way again.”
Magdalena lifted one hand and placed a finger against the tip of the sword. She pushed it away.
“As you wish, Simon—the would-be King. We have an understanding. No more name-calling.”
Boone moaned and stirred, but remained unconscious.
“You have done an admirable thing,” Magdalena said. “To trade one’s life for another is indeed the noblest of sacrifices.”
“I have no intention of dying anytime soon.”
“I must disagree. You have not been seen for many years. Everyone assumed that you were dead. Sterling stopped sending out search parties after only a few months. It is true, that those men had little desire to find you. Your legend grew much more frightening in your absence.
“Had you remained in the mountains and the caves, you would likely have been able to live to a ripe old dragon age. But you chose to flaunt yourself in full view—stealing dead animals from hunters. Are these the actions of an intelligent creature? I think not!
“Tonight, you have murdered two soldiers of the King’s Guard. Well, I certainly hope that you’ve murdered them.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Simon asked.
A look of revelation crossed Magdalena’s face. Her smile was wicked and knowing.
“Have you learned nothing of your dear brother’s reign—from the throne that would have been yours?”
She pointed at Boone.
“Your friend must bring you no news from the village.”
“Our lives are not your concern. Yes, the guards are dead. I meant to leave them alive, but they left us no choice.”
“You did them a great favor,” Magdalena said.
“Favor? Are you mad?”
Magdalena leaned forward. Her face grew hard.
“Are you familiar with the role of the King’s Regent?” Magdalena asked. “Do you know who rules the Kingdom?”
“Of course,” Simon said. “I learned the line of Kings and the laws of succession before my fifth name day. When a young boy becomes King, all matters of the Kingdom are subject to the rule of the Regent.”
“Then you know that the Kingdom is currently under the rule of your uncle, until your brother’s seventeenth name day,” Magdalena said.
“That is the law,” Simon said.
“Ha! It is the law! And naturally, the law provides the very
best for the people of Morgenwraithe! All hail The Law!”
“So, you think little of the laws of the Kingdom,” Simon said. “I am not surprised. Your black magic brought about this plague! This is why your guards died. And in your madness, you declare that I have done them a great favor!”
“The fate of my guards was sealed the moment that you touched my door. If they lived, Lord Sterling, in your brother’s name, would bind them in the center of his courtyard and force them to watch as their families were murdered. He would take their heads and mount them high above the city gates until the crows devoured the last of their flesh.”
Simon stepped backward. He leaned against the table. He put his hand on Boone’s chest and felt it beating.
“You are lying,” Simon said, but he was unable to look at the sorceress.
“I have no reason to lie. And you are no more a prisoner that I am—except that my imprisonment gains no respite from the moon.”
“Is there no end to your deceit?” Simon asked. “You are no man’s prisoner. Neither the King nor any of his men possess any magic. They would have no need for sorcery or seers if they did.”
Magdalena sighed.
“If this was true, I would have fled this Kingdom long ago. Either you toy with me, or you do not know of the unbreakable spell that was placed on the throne of this Kingdom—many, many years ago. No magic can be used against the throne.”
“I heard this fable—even as a child. I did not believe it. What kind of magic cannot be broken?”
“I doubt that you were told the entire story,” Magdalena said. “It is not the kind of story that one tells to children.”
“Enlighten me,” Simon said.
“These lands have known war for as long as anyone can remember. Those who acquired the throne were forever in danger from usurpers—particularly usurpers with sorcerers at their side. This went on for many years, until the reign of King Vehaillion—the King from whom—”