The Crescent Stone

by Matt Mikalatos

  Baileya didn’t put away her staff, but she no longer held it in a threatening way either. When Jason and Hanali arrived beside her, she was already talking. “—understand why it appears to be a threat to the Elenil.”

  The first White Skull bowed low. “Now that you explain, Kakri woman, we understand.”

  A second White Skull spoke, his voice as harsh and unpleasant as the other’s. “It is, among our people, considered a comedic statement.”

  “Your humor is notoriously difficult to understand,” Baileya said.

  “This is a joke?” Jason studied the three of them carefully. They looked like the Black Skulls, but as if someone had switched all the colors around.

  The White Skulls laughed, and the center one said, “We see, and our hearts understand, Kakri woman. This human male does not perceive the joke, and his soul is not lightened with laughter.” They ignored Hanali completely. He, for his part, did not seem bothered by this. He turned and waved Rondelo away. Madeline and Shula were making their way to them.

  “They are from the Southern Court,” Baileya said to Jason. “They thought it would be funny to pretend to be Scim at the Elenil celebration.”

  All three White Skulls laughed. “Our cousins have appeared as Elenil at the Scim celebration,” one of them said. “It is a cause of great merriment, no doubt.”

  “I’m going to dress up like your worst enemy and come to the Southern Court next time,” Jason said.

  All three Skulls burst into uproarious laughter. “Yes, friend, do!” They all three clapped their left hand onto his left shoulder, then turned and wandered into the crowd.

  Baileya gave him an affectionate look. “They liked you,” she said.

  Jason wasn’t so sure. “I am likeable,” he said tentatively.

  “It is rare for them to invite someone to their land,” Hanali said. “You showed respect by telling them you would come as their enemy, because that means you know there is no enemy who frightens them. It is a great compliment among their people.”

  “I was trying to insult them.”

  “They are a strange people. Shape-shifters and tricksters. The Elenil have an uneasy alliance with them. Now come, all of you,” Hanali said. “Thenody’s long-winded speech will end soon, and I want you to meet my parents before night falls.”

  Hanali’s parents, Vivi and Resca, looked precisely the same as Hanali. Vivi, his father, had the same ageless face and wore a silken brocade jacket that reminded Jason of what Hanali had worn the first day they met. Long curls of blond hair spilled out of a wide, floppy silk hat. Hanali’s mother, Resca, wore a loose, flowing robe that covered her completely and a sheer veil through which could be seen yet another ageless face and a gentle smile.

  Jason looked at each of the three of them, baffled that they all looked to be the same age. “You must have had Hanali very young,” he said at last, and Hanali’s parents burst into delighted laughter.

  “We were young,” Vivi said, looking lovingly into Resca’s eyes. “We were—what? Three hundred years old? Infants!”

  Resca put a hand on Hanali’s arm. “No one else our age had a child. What a blessing you are, my son.”

  “Your parents are super nice,” Jason said. “That’s more nice stuff than I’ve heard from my dad in my whole life.”

  Resca smiled again. “It is lovely to meet the children Hanali has ferried into the Sunlit Lands. They are always so delightful and interesting and loyal.”

  Loyal? Jason glanced at Madeline. “Loyal to who?”

  “To Hanali, of course,” Vivi said with a delighted laugh.

  “Enough, enough,” Hanali said. “Unless I am much mistaken, our friend Thenody is finishing his speech.”

  Friend? Jason gave Hanali a sideways look. Was it just him, or did the Elenil reserve the word friend for people they disliked?

  Vivi took the arms of Shula and Madeline and turned toward the dais, chatting amiably. Baileya stood nearby, collapsing her war staff. Resca took Jason’s arm. “One day Hanali will stand on that dais,” she said softly.

  “Like . . . as a waiter or something?”

  “You are delightful. Perhaps he will be a butler for a magistrate. I doubt a waiter.” She smiled at Jason as if they shared a deep secret. He had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Okaaaay,” he said. “That will be nice.”

  “Yes,” she said, patting Jason’s gloved hand. “He is a good son.”

  Her hand gripped his arm tighter as the audience murmured, then fell silent. The archon held the Heart of the Scim over his head now, and the black color was leeching out of it, leaving only a brilliant white. Without the darkness inside of it, the stone looked like a gigantic diamond or maybe a piece of glass. “Now,” the archon said, “darkness falls, and our magics leave us for a time, that we might remember the great sacrifices made by our ancestors who created the Court of Far Seeing, and remain thankful for the light!”

  Then, for the first time since they had come to the Sunlit Lands, night fell.

  25

  A FLIGHT THROUGH DARKNESS

  Another turning shall come.

  FROM “THE DESERTED CITY,” A KAKRI LAMENT

  As the archon spoke, night fell on the Court of Far Seeing. Madeline gasped. Her hand tightened reflexively on Vivi’s arm. She reached across him, reassuring herself that Shula was still there, and called out for Jason, who bumbled into her, asking if she was okay.

  There were no stars. No moon, nothing. No torches or streetlamps, doubtless because the Court of Far Seeing almost never experienced true dark. The crowd, to Madeline’s surprise, did not seem panicked. On the contrary, they cheered the darkness.

  “Do not worry,” Vivi said. “We allow complete darkness for but a moment. It is part of the story of Ele and Nala, when they stopped the sun in the sky and caused darkness to flee. In a moment there will be—ah, there they are—stars.”

  More stars than Madeline had ever seen. Enough to wash the whole city in pale, blue light. She had seen the Milky Way once on a camping trip with her parents, but this was more than one swath of white spilled across the sky. It looked like someone had scattered a chest of jewels across a dark floor. Yellow, blue, and red stars shone with a purity of color she had never seen on Earth, and they moved just fast enough that she could see their motion if she stared for even a minute.

  “Why wouldn’t the Elenil want to see this every night?” Madeline asked, but no one answered.

  The archon, on the dais, lit a torch. In the new dark that torch was like a bonfire of glaring brightness. “We must not let the light fade,” he said. “It is in the darkness that our light shines brightest, and tomorrow we will light the world again.” He lit another person’s torch near him, and that person lit yet another torch, and soon candles and torches were being passed into the crowd.

  Shula leaned across Vivi. It was just bright enough to see her face clearly. “Madeline, we should make our way back to Westwind. Other magics will begin to fail over the next hour, and it’s unpredictable which will go first.”

  Madeline nodded and then, realizing that it might be difficult to see, said, “Okay, Shula. I’ll follow you.”

  They said their good-byes to Hanali and his parents, who tried to encourage them to stay for the festivities. “The feast begins in a few minutes,” Vivi said. “The Elenil will eat dry crusts of bread. The Scim servants who remain in the city will come and feast, and the humans will be given food and drink as well.”

  “We should definitely stay,” Jason said. Madeline wanted to remind him that when the magic left, she wouldn’t be able to breathe, but she didn’t want him to think about Night’s Breath or to think about the fact that if he felt well when the magic faded, it was only because she had allowed the murder of a Scim to save him.

  Baileya saved her the trouble, though, by looking down at him and saying sternly, “The Knight of the Mirror has ordered me to return you to Westwind, and that is what I will do.”

  “But
the feast!”

  “I will bring you a pastry,” Baileya said, “if you behave.”

  Madeline laughed. This amazing, sculpted warrior woman bringing Jason a pastry . . . Something about the image struck her as funny.

  Jason hung his head. “I should stick close to Madeline, anyway.”

  “Then it is settled,” Baileya said. “Let us make our way to the castle.”

  “Should we wait for some torches?” Madeline asked.

  Baileya shook her head. “All four of us come from lands where night and day trade places with regularity. We are not afraid of a small spell of darkness.”

  Jason said, “We do have lightbulbs where we come from, though, Baileya.”

  A dark shape skimmed the crowd, flapping its wings, and landed on the dais near the archon. “Did you see that? Was that a bird?”

  It was a bird. In a few seconds another bird zipped in from the direction of the southern gate, and then another. Then a massive flock of birds, all different sizes, appeared over the crowd in a chaotic swarm of chirping, hooting, cawing messengers. They flew from all places in the city and lit beside different people in the crowd, relaying their messages before flying off on their next errand.

  “No one told me about this part of the festival,” Madeline said.

  Baileya had already pulled her weapon out, swiftly assembling the two bladed ends. “This is not part of the festival,” she said. “We must move quickly to Westwind.”

  Instead of putting her staff together, she held half out to Jason. He took it in his hand, looking uncertain what to do. She snatched it out of his hand and gave it to Shula. “We will flank you,” she said. “You must go as quickly as you are able.”

  Madeline grabbed Jason’s hand so they wouldn’t lose each other in the dark, and they pushed through the crowd. She could feel a surge of energy in the crowd. She didn’t know what message they had received, but it must be something dire, because the people were all moving with a panicked purpose now. Rondelo and Evernu leapt past them, headed south.

  “Hurry,” Shula said. “I’ve seen this sort of crowd before. We need to get out of it.”

  A horn sounded, harsh and discordant, from the square behind them. Madeline didn’t stop to look but felt Jason hesitate. Then he ran ahead of her, yanking on her arm. The crowd around them started to run as well. Someone fell to her left, then disappeared beneath the thundering feet of the crowd. Madeline cried out, but Shula pushed the small of her back, urging her forward.

  A voice boomed out over the crowd. “Release the girl to us, and you may live. Deny us, and face the consequences.”

  Panicked, confused cries rose from the crowd. “What girl?” “Who is he speaking about?” “What does he want?”

  “The girl who cannot breathe,” said the voice again. “Madeline Oliver is her name.”

  Madeline stopped, turning back to look. Jason yelled at her to move, yanking on her hand, but Shula had stopped too, Baileya’s weapon at the ready.

  A Black Skull stood on the far end of the crowd, a scythe in his hands. “Very well,” he said. “The archon first.” He raised his white-clothed arm, then dropped it again.

  A volley of arrows flew from the edges of the crowd. The archon tried to run, but an arrow caught him in the calf, and as he fell, several more pierced him. Screams rose from the people, and the stampede began in earnest.

  “This way,” Baileya hissed and pulled them into the sheltering alcove of a merchant’s shop. “Listen closely. Run if you can, hide if you must, fight if there is no other option. I will be with you in the crowd, sometimes ahead and sometimes behind. Shula, you must stay near them in case one gets past me. Do not hesitate, and do not stay your blade. Be it Scim or human or Elenil, let no one hinder our path.”

  “What if it’s a Maegrom?” Jason asked. “Or a . . . a Kakri or something?”

  “Pray it will not be a Kakri warrior,” Baileya said grimly, “or you will be lost. Follow the path I direct, even if it seems to take us away from Westwind. The desert has no paths, but a city has many. If we cannot find one that leads where we wish to go, we will make our own.”

  An Elenil couple fell out of the crowd, pushing up against them in the alcove. “It’s her,” the woman said, her eyes wide. “They’re killing Elenil out there. Elenil! We must give them this girl.”

  Baileya sliced the woman’s arm with her blade. She cried out in surprise, covering her arm. “How dare you, desert vermin!”

  Baileya’s face twisted in disgust. “There is no magic and thus no healing until the festival ends. You had best run for safety, citizen. If you fall on my blade today, you will not rise again.”

  The woman said, “Our bird told us someone has allowed the Scim entry to the city. A traitor! The Scim bypassed our guards, they found the gates unlocked. No Elenil would do such a thing, and here we find a company of Kakri and humans.” She sneered at them.

  Baileya moved toward the couple, but Madeline put her hand on the Kakri woman’s arm. “We had nothing to do with that,” Madeline said. “But you should run. I can’t hold her back for long.”

  The Elenil couple backed away, and the man said, “When the festival passes, we will speak again.”

  “Hope that I have no blades on that day,” Baileya snarled, and the two of them, wide eyed, stepped back.

  “Go,” Madeline said. “Run! She’s not joking.”

  The couple stepped into the crowd and disappeared.

  The crowd swirled and crashed in on itself. Trying to find a stream of people moving in the right direction seemed overwhelming. Madeline wasn’t sure the four of them could go the right way and stay together. “It’s too crowded,” Madeline said. “The roofs?”

  Baileya studied the flat roofs on either side of the street. “You must stay low so the Scim do not see us.” With one practiced kick she knocked in the merchant’s door. “Swiftly now.”

  They stumbled through the dark shop. Madeline found a narrow stairway that led to the roof. Baileya forced the top door open. The small, flat roof held a few potted plants and a short wooden bench. The buildings huddled together, and the distance from one roof to the next was rarely more than a single step. They hunched down as they ran to keep from making silhouettes on the field of stars. “The torches are going out,” Jason said.

  It was true. Starting at the dais and rapidly spreading in a wave across the square, the torches were flickering and dying. Screams came from behind them, and guttural war cries. “Scim warriors,” Shula said. “They’re in the square.”

  “Why are they after me?” Madeline asked.

  Baileya held still on the edge of a roof. “We should cross the street here,” she said. “It’s a long jump, but going down among that crowd seems foolish.”

  “No way,” Jason said. “We could wait here for sunlight. No one will see us up here.”

  Baileya looked to Shula. “I know a thing or two about battles in a city,” Shula said. “If they can’t find you, they’ll set a fire. They’ll trust the fire to flush you out.”

  “We should jump,” Madeline said. It was a narrow cobblestone street, but the jump was long enough to be intimidating. Baileya jumped first, soaring across with ease, landing on her feet on the other side. Then Jason went, landing clumsily but whole. Madeline would go next, and Shula last. Madeline’s heart beat fast, and her breath came in shallow pants. She squeezed Shula’s hand, then backed away from the edge. Jason and Baileya crouched low on the opposite side.

  A searing pain shot through Madeline’s left wrist, traveling in complicated whorls up her forearm and over her bicep, ending with a series of branching swirls on her shoulder. She gasped and stumbled. Shula hurried to her side.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I—” She stopped, struggling to breathe. Of course. The magic had just given out. Jason was staring at his own wrist. His eyes met Madeline’s, cold and hard.

  “We have to get you across,” Shula said. She inhaled sharply, and Madeline watched bruises
bloom on Shula’s face. Her wounds had returned as well. “Should we go into the street or—”

  “No. I’ll . . . jump.”

  “You can’t breathe!”

  “I’ll . . . hold . . . my breath.” Racking coughs squeezed her chest. She lay on her back and gave herself to the count of ten. Then she reached her hand out, and Shula helped her to her feet. She took as deep a breath as she was able, then ran. Her feet hit the end of the roof, and she jumped, arms pinwheeling, toward the other side.

  She hit the lip of the roof and bounced backward, but Baileya snatched her like a hawk grabbing a rabbit. Then Jason’s hands were on her arms, and they dragged her onto the roof. Shula landed beside her a moment later.

  All three of them lay on the roof, panting. Baileya let them rest for nearly a minute. “We need to move,” she said. “We can rest inside Westwind.”

  They helped Madeline sit up, but she wasn’t able to stand. The guilt over Night’s Breath crippled her every time Jason looked her way. “Jason,” she said. “Night’s Breath—”

  “Later,” Jason said but not in an encouraging way. Baileya ran along the roof to make sure all was clear. Shula and Jason managed to get Madeline standing. Jason picked her up and started to move. He couldn’t run, but at least they were headed in the right direction, Baileya scouting and Shula keeping a watch behind them.

  Madeline tried to talk to Jason twice more, but each time he quietly rebuked her. The torches had gone out only two blocks behind them. Sweat poured down Jason’s face.

  Baileya came to them. “We must move faster,” she whispered. “The Scim are nearly upon us.” She looked Jason up and down. “Give her to me.”

  “I’ve got her,” Jason said. Baileya wrapped her arms around Madeline, lifting her gently from him.

  “Take my weapon,” she said. Jason reached out to her waist and unlatched it from a small strap of leather. “Now we run.”

  Shula took the lead, and Jason came last. Westwind stood like a beacon in the distance, the walls and towers covered in torches.