Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock)

by Krause, Marguerite

“Likes my singing.” I could be happy with her, Ivey thought with another burst of surprise. “But we hardly know each other!”

  “Well, get on with it,” the king ordered. “And let me know your decision, lad.”

  “Before or after I’m attacked by the phantom cat?” Ivey wanted to know.

  Sene laughed. “It’s not the phantom cat you have to worry about. Just trust me, and ride as hard as you can.”

  “Yes, Sire. If you say so, Sire.”

  * * *

  Dael shaded his eyes with one hand against the westering son. Gods and mothers, what a mess.

  He had been with one of the border patrols when they found signs of an Abstainer band in the area. The hunt had lasted two days. When they knew they were close, Dael and one of the guards, a young woman named Janakol, went ahead to scout out the area. From the trail the band left, he had expected a large group, perhaps a match in numbers to the dozen people in the guard troop.

  Now, the ruddy afternoon light revealed at least four times that many Abstainers, all well-armed, milling about a camp that showed inexplicable signs of order.

  Dael and Janakol circled the encampment at a safe distance. The dry ground revealed little, until they approached the Sitrinian side of the border. Janakol, a few steps in front of him, held up her hand in warning.

  “Company, Captain.”

  A single horse, wearing saddle, bridle, and a set of hobbles, grazed in the sheltered hollow. Dael didn’t have to approach the animal to know they were in even more serious trouble than he’d realized. The familiar Sitrinian colors on the horse’s tack were bad enough. The unmistakable insignia on the saddle cloth, used only by members of the royal house, was worse.

  Janakol glanced at Dael and whispered, “One of their patrols, after the same thing we are?”

  Dael chose not to correct her. “Could be. Keep alert.”

  They found a good vantage point on a grass-shrouded hill in Sitrinian territory. Less than twenty yards from the border, but a Sitrinian hill nonetheless. Dael watched a commotion begin in the camp, and guessed that they might not have to worry about a guard patrol objecting to their act of trespass. Even from this distance, he could make a good guess at the identity of the fair-haired man who’d somehow gotten himself trapped on top of the only portion of a building still standing on top of the Abstainer’s hill.

  Chasa, son and heir to Sene of Sitrine.

  Janakol gripped Dael’s forearm. “Captain! Is that who I think it is?”

  For a moment, Dael’s heart sank. If Janakol recognized the prince, the rest of the troop would, too. Then he realized that she was pointing not at Chasa, but at the large man who stood at the foot of the building. His bellowing voice, if not his actual words, carried across the gully over the chatter and curses of his excited followers. Dael had never heard another voice like it—and had hoped he would never hear it again.

  “Soen,” he breathed.

  “I thought he was dead!”

  Mad Soen. That would be bound to arouse Hion’s interest. As for Chasa—assuming Dael could get him away from the Abstainers, then what? Hold him captive, for the crime of entering Rhenlan territory? If Dael did that, Damon would be ecstatic. He might even make some twisted claim about the prince being advance scout for an invasion. Everyone knew how heavily the Sitrinians patrolled their borders. Suspicion of Sitrine was Damon’s favorite excuse to add to Rhenlan’s guard. Would he goad King Sene into declaring war to get his son back? It was very possible that people were going to die because one idiot had strayed over a border that nobody cared about ten years ago.

  Unless I interfere.

  Dael motioned Janakol to withdraw. The situation wasn’t beyond saving. Not yet. According to Nocca, two members of the guard troop were part of Damon’s spy corp. The rest were simply loyal guards. It would not occur to any of them to carry tales back to Edian, unless Dael did something unequivocally treasonous. He was not ready to confront them with the challenge of choosing between him and the king. Jordy was beginning to plant seeds across the kingdom that might, in time, prepare the way for an uprising—but not yet.

  The very idea of defying Shapers was difficult for many to grasp. King’s guards were no different than other Keepers. Dael hoped that when the choice was clear and the decision unavoidable, the groundwork laid by Nocca would ensure that the majority of Rhenlan’s guards would refuse to fight an unjust battle against their fellow Keepers. At least, that was the plan. It would have a greater likelihood of success if Dael was there to set an example for the rest. He couldn’t afford to displease Hion, or Damon, and risk losing his position in the guard.

  He didn’t know why he was worried about taking Chasa prisoner. He had to get him away from the Abstainers, first.

  Once out of sight of the Abstainer camp, he touched Janakol’s shoulder. The band of Abstainers was so large that, even without the complicating factor of Chasa’s presence, they would have had nothing to fear from a single troop of Rhenlan guards. However, the troop might be able to cause the diversion he needed to extricate Chasa from his impossible position.

  “Now what, Captain?” she asked, voice low.

  “I’m not sure. Odds of four to one, at least. Not good.”

  “Especially not if that’s really Soen.” She shuddered, the twitch of her shoulders obvious even in the deepening twilight. “Stones, a Shaper Abstainer! Do you suppose there’s a troop or two of Sitrinian guards nearby, to go with that horse we saw?”

  “It’s possible.” Dael looked over Janakol’s shoulder. The setting sun cast their long shadows toward a patch of scrub forest, about a quarter mile behind the Sitrinian border. A flicker of movement, an uneven patch of blackness darker than the oncoming night, warned him that someone lay hidden at the foot of the trees. “But I wouldn’t count on it. We need reinforcements.”

  “We might have to ride halfway to Edian to find anyone.”

  “If that’s what it takes. I don’t want that many Abstainers still at large when winter comes. We’ll send two guards to find the nearest patrol and spread the alarm.” He named Damon’s spies. If others in the troop suspected favoritism, so be it. At least those two would be out of his way.

  “The rest of us will follow the band. Maybe they’ll split up, and we’ll have a chance to pick them off in smaller groups.” He waved Janakol in the direction of the waiting troop. “Go. I want them on the road right away.”

  “What about you, sir?”

  “I’m going to circle the camp again. As soon as I’m sure they’re not moving any farther tonight, I’ll head back. Tell the corporal to set sentries, but no watch fires. We don’t want to risk them noticing us.”

  With a nod, Janakol set off through the tall grass. As soon as she was gone, Dael crept back up the hill, then veered south.

  By the time full dark had fallen, Dael was sure that only one other person, not an entire Sitrinian guard troop, lurked with him on the outskirts of the Abstainer camp. Dael approached the watcher as directly as he dared. The gods knew he didn’t want to frighten him off, but he didn’t have all night to waste, either.

  Keyn’s waning disk rose over the grassland. The light was not bright enough to reveal Dael, and a breeze sighed through the grass, so the man could not have heard him coming. Even so, he lifted his head at Dael’s soundless approach, and stared so directly at him that Dael gave up and rose from the concealing grass.

  “You’re Dael, aren’t you?” The man’s silver-blond hair was pulled back from a high forehead, secured by a headband and a single, intricate braid at the nape of his neck. His embroidered black robe hid everything else about him. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Only a wizard comes weaponless to face Abstainers. You’re Aage.”

  The wizard continued to stare at him. “What do you want?”

  “I’m guessing I want the same thing you do. Prince Chasa out of Rhenlan.”

  “You can’t be Captain Dael. Not talking like that.”

  Dael moved. The
next instant he had Aage on the ground, a knife at his throat. “Do you still doubt I’m Dael?”

  “No.” If there was a flicker of emotion in the wizard’s ice-blue eyes, it was annoyance, not fear. Dael stepped back, and Aage got to his feet. “Forgive me if I suspect your motives. Your masters are no friends to Sitrine. Why would you betray them by helping me?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “I’d like to hear them.”

  Dael put away the knife and planted his fists on his hips. “Look, let’s start over. There’s a band of Abstainers on the other side of that hill. They’re holding your prince captive. You’re here to rescue him, but you need help.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “If you don’t need help, then what are you waiting for?” He studied the wizard’s sharp, disapproving features. “Or does Sitrine’s prince have a reason to be on Rhenlan’s side of the border?”

  “Youthful indiscretion.”

  If the situation wasn’t so serious, Dael would almost have thought that the man was making a joke. Dreamers! “Do you need my help, or not?”

  “What do you know about Dreamer magic?”

  “Only what my Redmother taught me. The power bends within you, and can be bent against anything that has magic of its own.” Dael paused. “But that can’t be right. You knew I was here, and I have no magic in me.”

  The wizard managed to look haughtily down his straight nose at Dael, despite their being the same height. “The web of power permeates the whole world. I can send my senses through it. I knew you were there, just as I know how many people are in your troop of guards, and know that Chasa is beginning to curse the impulse that brought him here.”

  “You know so much. Can’t you just go into the Abstainer camp and put everyone to sleep? Or make the prince invisible so that he can walk out?”

  “The power doesn’t bend that way. If it did, we wouldn’t be standing here, would we?”

  An idea teased at the edge of Dael’s mind. “Your magic’s no good against people, even Abstainers.”

  “As much as they deny it, they are still Children of the Rock.”

  “I don’t have enough guards to fight them. Not without help.” What help was a wizard? The only thing Dael knew about Aage was that he defended villages against wind demons, and he could travel in an instant, via magic, from one place to another. “You move things. All Dreamers do. Yourselves, and your clothes. Jenil moves her healing supplies.”

  “Inanimate things, yes. If I can move it with my body, I can move it with magic. Living things, only if they are imbued with power.”

  Dael’s inspiration wavered. “You can’t bend the power and move every sword, bow, and knife out of the Abstainer camp?”

  “Not unless I go there and physically take them out of the hands of their owners.”

  “Could you?”

  “With the element of surprise on my side? I might disarm four or five people, on opposite sides of the camp, before the alarm was raised.”

  “Not enough. I can’t attack without a bigger diversion than that.” Diversion. Distraction. It all came down to tactics. “You can’t fight twenty Abstainers single-handed. But you fight wind demons, and beat them. Control them.”

  “To an extent,” Aage agreed. “I don’t see how that helps. There’s no wind demon here.”

  “It helps if it works both ways.” Dael controlled his impatience. Dreamers weren’t supposed to think like guards. Dreamers weren’t supposed to think at all, if this one was any example of the breed. “If you can summon monsters as well as banish them.”

  “You’re mad,” Aage said.

  Dael did not refute the statement. It had a certain element of truth in it, especially tonight. “Give me a diversion. Give me a monster. Arrange a disturbance. Your prince can make his escape, and I’ll be too busy to take him prisoner to Edian.”

  “You call a monster a disturbance?”

  “Nothing a trained Shaper can’t handle, right? Just give me time to get my guards into position.”

  He left Aage standing in the Keyn-dappled shadows of the gully, and ran to alert the patrol.

  Chapter 29

  The phantom cats appeared side by side within the gazelle herd as the sun touched the horizon. Terrified animals stampeded in all directions. Sene remained astride his horse until he saw Ivey begin his desperate run back toward the ambush site. Then he dismounted, drew his sword, and slipped into the space he’d already cleared in the bushes near the base of the slope.

  Ivey’s horse pounded closer. Sene flexed his sword arm only once. The weapon was a part of him. They were long past needing any formal reacquaintance before a fight. An odd, greenish glow that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight brightened the edges of the blade.

  Sene’s horse raised its head, nostrils flaring. Two gazelles, panic-stricken, bounded down the slope toward them. The horse bolted. Ivey flew over the crest of the hill, one hand twined in his horse’s mane, knees clamped vise-like around the animal’s body as he forced it toward Sene’s hiding place.

  The phantom cats were only a few leaps behind Ivey’s horse. They sensed the power in the sword. The one nearest leapt sideways, and barely evaded Sene’s gutting thrust. But Sene anticipated that sensitivity and followed through with another stroke. The monster spat and howled, its wound spurting iridescent blood. Sene gave a furious yell and flourished the sword. Both beasts hissed. One backed off a few feet while the leading cat faced the sword. The trick to fighting a phantom cat was holding its attention. If allowed to disengage, it could vanish and the hunt would have to begin again.

  The cat facing Sene crouched, snarled, and sprang. Sene, anticipating the creature yet again, timed his move and drove the sword deep behind its skull. Momentum carried the heavy body past him. Sene pivoted and kept his grip on his sword as the dead cat crashed to the ground. The second cat sprang forward, great body arching through the air. Sene braced himself, brought the sword up in a shining arc.

  The phantom cat screamed, and disappeared.

  The sound lingered for a moment on the evening air, an echo blended with a faint film of smoke. Sene slashed down at the sweet vapor, furious that one of the monsters had gotten away. He sniffed, then scratched his bald spot. Odd. Phantom cats didn’t normally smell of cinnamon.

  * * *

  Chasa slumped against the rough stone of the wall. “Where,” he muttered to the darkness, “is Aage? You think he’d at least pop in to say, ‘I told you so.’ I would, if I was a Dreamer. That’s about all Dreamers are good for. Popping in and out and giving advice which no one ever listens to.”

  All right. He should have listened. Aage had warned him that he was going to get in trouble. Still, Chasa hadn’t expected to run into Soen, of all people! Aage might appear again. The wizard had dogged him often enough these past few days, when Chasa didn’t want to see him. Maybe that was it. If Chasa convinced myself he didn’t want to see Aage, he would show up.

  I don’t want to see him. I don’t need a wizard. Aage couldn’t get him out of this, anyway. Wizards were useless in practical situations.

  A piercing shriek shocked the night into momentary silence. Chasa threw himself to his barricade, sword in hand. Below him, the Abstainer camp erupted into chaos as a wedge of horsemen galloped into its midst. The leader, a tall man with wide shoulders, wore Rhenlan’s sapphire and sky blue.

  Aage popped into existence at the foot of Chasa’s building, the puff of smoke gold-tinted by Keynlight. “Don’t stand there like an idiot! Hurry!”

  Chasa pointed after the horsemen. “Who was that?”

  “Not an idiot.”

  “Aage!”

  “Dael, captain of Hion’s guard. He agrees with me that you shouldn’t have come to Rhenlan.”

  Sounds like an “I told you so” to me. “What’s happened?”

  “Phantom cat.”

  The shriek came again, answered by panicked neighs. Chasa scrambled out of the ruined house, sword rea
dy in his hand.

  “Where?”

  “In the gully.” Aage pointed across the camp, then vanished.

  Chasa ran down the hill. A few scattered Abstainers fought sword-wielding guards, but most had already disappeared into the night, following their horses in mindless stampede. The rest of the troop was already at the gully, weapons in hand. Chasa shouldered his way into the ragged line, but the guards on either side hardly noticed his arrival. They were too busy witnessing a guard’s nightmare made real.

  Chasa paused at the top of the short slope, slack-jawed with disbelief. The captain of Rhenlan’s guard was holding the phantom cat at bay with a demonstration of the finest swordsmanship in three kingdoms. The cat shrieked its frustration and sprang to the right. Dael moved with it, blocking its path. Virulent yellow light sparkled unnaturally in its fur, flashed in the depths of glowing eyes attuned to the pale glimmer of moonshine.

  Why didn’t the creature disappear? A large part of what made phantom cats deadly was their tendency to transport magically from one place to another. They typically materialized in the midst of a flock of animals—or gathering of people—grabbed their victim, and vanished, all in the space of a few heartbeats. Chasa couldn’t understand why this one hadn’t moved behind Dael and finished him off. For that matter, the watching guards or fleeing horses should have attracted the monster. They were easier prey than Dael. Dael couldn’t have accidentally wounded it, however admirable his skill and reflexes. He lacked the specialized training, and he lacked the proper sort of blade.

  White teeth gleamed in the shimmering, fur-tufted face as the cat took the offensive and leapt forward. Dael’s sword hissed through the air. The flurry of blows was daunting in its speed and savagery, a defense and counterattack that would have slaughtered three or four mortal assailants. The phantom cat merely paused, enraged at being delayed but completely uninjured. The Keeper’s sword slid off its fur without effect.

  Chasa skidded down the slope. Dust and pebbles flew from beneath his boots. At the sound, the cat whirled. Chasa tossed his belt and empty scabbard aside. Dael shouted defiance at the back of the monster, and, undeterred by his previous failures, slashed at its hindquarters.