The Forgetting Moon

by Brian Lee Durfee

  “I washed his feet because Anjk Bourbon conspired to have Shkill Gha’s blade poisoned,” she said. “A blade that Squireck stood upon with bare feet. A blade poisoned by another oghul at the behest of Archbishop Spencerville on the orders of Denarius. I saw Anjk give the soiled blade to this other oghul, a sneak-thief with orders to deliver it to Shkill Gha.”

  “Why did you not speak of this sooner?” Culpa Barra looked at her accusingly.

  “I did what I could.” She lifted her chin. “I killed Anjk for his crime.”

  “You killed Anjk Bourbon?” Squireck squinted at her.

  She nodded, proud. At that moment, she felt some measure of understanding for Squireck’s murder of Archbishop Lucas. It just dawned on her. They were all of them killers: Culpa Barra, Squireck, even she. She shivered as the wind shifted and pulled the hood of her cloak up.

  Culpa Barra said, “Fact is, the vicar will stop at nothing until you are dead, Squireck. Here you are safe from any of Jovan’s Dayknights.”

  “No matter.” Squireck stared at Jondralyn, expressionless. “None can kill me. Laijon guides our fates now. Prophecy is being fulfilled before our eyes.”

  “I do not doubt that you have a well of courage that is bottomless,” Culpa said. “You delved deep into your heart to summon the strength and fortitude to triumph in the arena. But we must all remain wary of the Bloodwood still in our midst.”

  “You mean Hawkwood?”

  Jondralyn’s face darkened. “That is not what Culpa meant.”

  Squireck’s face darkened with jealousy. “Is that why he has joined the Brethren, Jon, to infiltrate us, to pretend he is one of the five and then betray us?”

  “You know his heritage as well as I,” Culpa Barra answered. “You have read the writings of Mia. Hawkwood is as important to our cause as are you, as is Jondralyn.”

  “I do not trust him.” Squireck’s eyes were inflamed with passion as he spoke. “We must not slacken our efforts—”

  “Hawkwood is with us,” Culpa Barra cut him short. “He rounds out the five: you, Jondralyn, Hawkwood, Val-Draekin, the boy—the five together are the Gladiator, the Princess, Assassin, Thief, and the Slave, each of you a blood descendent of one of the Five Warrior Angels, each of you hailing from one of the Five Isles. One of you is marked to become Laijon at the time of Absolution, as the Moon Scrolls foretold.”

  Jubal Bruk wasn’t even sure if the boy in Gallows Haven was still alive.

  “Hawkwood is with us,” Culpa continued. “He found Ethic Shroud and one of the angel stones under Amadon. In the Rooms of Sorrow. Using information from the scrolls you stole for us.”

  Rooms of Sorrow. Jondralyn’s mind flew to the map hidden in her room.

  Squireck’s face was both eager and cautious. “But can we really trust Hawkwood?”

  “I saw the angel stone with mine own eyes. Roguemoore saw. Jondralyn too.”

  Squireck’s eyes flew to hers. “Where is the stone? Where is Ethic Shroud now?”

  Should I tell him of the map? Should I tell Culpa? Trust no one.

  “Hawkwood returned them to the place he found them,” Culpa answered. “Under Amadon. The safest place for them.”

  “So only he can find them again! And what if something happens to him? How will we be able to find them again? And what of the other four stones?”

  “Roguemoore and Hawkwood go to claim them,” Culpa answered. “And I’ve received word from one of Ser Roderic’s carrier falcons. He has found Forgetting Moon.”

  “Then we must go and help them retrieve the two stones that Ser Roderic found previously,” Squireck said. “The ones still hidden in the north. In Sky Lochs. Deadwood Gate. You helped him find the one in Deadwood Gate?”

  “Aye, I helped him in Deadwood Gate.” Culpa Barra said. “We must trust that Roguemoore and Hawkwood will get them. And maybe we can help them later.”

  Squireck winced at every mention of Hawkwood. “I must sit idle and wait while our feebleminded king hastens Fiery Absolution.” He snarled, his face now wearing a scowl. “While others go and get the remaining angel stones. We must launch an attack against the Sør Sevier army immediately. I shall gather the armies of Gul Kana together. I will lead the charge. We must delay the White Prince’s march on Amadon. I must avenge my homeland. My father would not let me fight with my countrymen. But now I am a fighter. A fighter beyond all his expectations for me. We must attack. Now.”

  “No, Squireck.” Culpa Barra’s carved face and hardened, alert eyes had carried a generally tense aura during the entire conversation. But his face was softening now. “Leave the war to others. Our job is the stones, the weapons. Gathering together the five before Fiery Absolution destroys all. We must have patience, friend. You will stay here. On this isle.”

  “Doing nothing.”

  “Remaining safe. Until you are needed once again. Patience.”

  “Whilst Hawkwood gets to go off adventuring, I sit idle!”

  “It won’t be for long, I promise.”

  “I am needed in my homeland. My father has need of me. I can muster what men are left in Adin Wyte who wish to fight. My homeland is naught but a shell of its former glory. I must redeem it. I am needed to lead the armies. I am needed in the search for the lost angel stones. I am needed everywhere and in so many ways. On this island is where I am needed least.”

  “You leave this isle, you will be hunted by Jovan, by the grand vicar,” Culpa said. “Then all our plans will be for naught. Do you not understand? You cannot die, Squireck. When I first heard you were to fight in the arena, friend, I was sure you would be killed. Had you been slain, all would have come to ruin. Do you not understand how important it is you stay alive? You, Jondralyn, Hawkwood, Val-Draekin, the boy—you must all stay alive for Laijon’s return. Your triumph in the arena proves that you are one of the Five Warrior Angels reborn. Your safety now trumps all.”

  “Forgive me,” Squireck said, tears rimming his eyes. “Forgive me, my friend. You’re right. I will do as you ask. I will stay here, though it pains my heart to do so.”

  Jondralyn, touched by the closeness Squireck and Culpa shared, stared up at the hulking bulk of Amadon Castle that rose above the bay. It was nearly dark now, and yellow lights twinkled in the castle’s hundreds of windows like tiny stars. It wasn’t until Culpa Barra had reiterated that Squireck was one of the Five Warrior Angels reborn that she truly felt the importance of what the Brethren of Mia were doing. Am I myself one of the Five Warrior Angels as the Brethren of Mia believe?

  And then she thought of Tala’s warning earlier, that Jovan planned to send her with Leif to parley with the White Prince, and that her brother planned on her dying in the process. Parley with Aeros Raijael? She just couldn’t imagine her brother bestowing such an honor on a woman, especially in light of Denarius’ thoughts on the matter of women. It was the one detail of Tala’s story that made her question the entire thing.

  “Are we being watched?” Squireck followed her gaze, looking up at the castle. “I’ve heard the Vallè have glass lenses they can peer through to enhance their vision, make far things appear close. I sense Roguemoore did not quite trust Val-Draekin.”

  “Nor do I,” Jondralyn added.

  “Stay in the abbey,” Culpa Barra said. “Do not wander about. You will only draw the attention of the lighthouse keeper. We will visit in the dark of night. We will keep you provisioned. I promise, you won’t be here forever.”

  “I’d be more comfortable in my dungeon cell than exiled to this island.”

  “You mustn’t say such things,” Jondralyn said.

  “Stay with me, then.”

  “I must get back to the castle. Jovan is suspicious of me at every turn.”

  She hugged him good-bye. Squireck’s broad back slumped in defeat as she made her way back toward the dock with Culpa Barra.

  “Squireck is a free man.” Jondralyn faced Jovan from the foot of his bed, challenge in her eyes. Her brother lay under white blankets, back
propped up with pillows. “He was pardoned by Denarius. He should be allowed his freedoms. But you have been nothing but unfair, thwarting the rights of the arena, denying him his Laijon-earned due. And now he’s fled the city. Perhaps back to his homeland. I know not where. He would not say.”

  Standing at the side of Jovan’s bed, Leif Chaparral smiled, as if he knew she lied. It had only been an hour since she had returned from Rockliegh Isle with Culpa Barra.

  “Squireck is of no concern,” Jovan said. “I summoned you here for a different purpose, sister. I have decided it is high time you prove yourself as a man. That’s what you want, is it not, to be a man, to fight for a cause, any cause?”

  Jondralyn felt a lump of fear gather in her gut and wondered if her brother was about to challenge her to another duel, or make her fight four Dayknights to the death.

  But then it all fell into place when he said, “You will accompany Leif to Lord’s Point, Jon. When the White Prince’s armies arrive there, you will offer terms, as my emissary, as my sister, as a full-fledged member of my Silver Guard.”

  Tala was right! At Jovan’s words, her heart began to thud wildly. And then it struck her. Did he just willingly offer to knight me one of the Silver Guard? It was unprecedented. A woman warrior hadn’t been heard of in Amadon or Gul Kana for near a thousand years.

  “I’ve never even been a squire,” she muttered. Then another thought struck her. I am the Princess who will lead armies! A Warrior Angel reborn! Despite Tala’s previous warning, the fact that it was her brother who was entrusting her with so prominent a task was unexpected. Laijon guides our fates now. Prophecy is being fulfilled before our eyes, Squireck had said. Whether her brother wished her to fail at this task—as Tala had claimed—mattered not. She knew she would succeed at this proffered commission.

  She bent her knee to her king, wondering if she had truly misjudged her brother all this time. “I graciously accept this charge, Your Excellency.” She bowed low too.

  “Why do you think I tested you all these years?” Jovan asked. “I was unforgiving with you for a purpose. I had to see if you were truly worthy of the tasks and positions I had planned. And you could not know that you were being tested.”

  Unforgiving. Tested. “You’ve treated me with brutality, brother. How am I to believe that all these years you’ve—”

  “Stop.” He held up a hand. “You’ve accepted my charge, have you not?”

  “I have.” A foreboding thought entered her mind as she stood again. “What terms am I to offer the White Prince? Not surrender, surely?”

  “We offer no surrender.” It was Leif who answered. “We are to relay to Aeros Raijael that Gul Kana will fight. We are to tell him that we will send his armies back to Sør Sevier and him to the underworld.”

  “Fight?” Jondralyn questioned, her eyes landing on her brother in his bed. Trust no one.

  Jovan’s face was lined with worry. “The challenge to the White Prince must come from you, Jondralyn. You are Borden’s blood. I am injured, else I would go. So the duty falls to you. That is why I’ve decided to knight you one of the Silver Guard. I want this to be the beginning of a new relationship of trust between us, sister, a relationship of pure honesty. You’ve acted the warrior in the safe confines of our home. But now I ask that you prove your bravery. You will face the White Prince and offer terms. You will tell Aeros Raijael that Gul Kana will stand and fight. You will stand eye to eye with the White Prince and assure him that the Silver Throne will crush his armies. As Borden Bronachell’s daughter, it is your duty.”

  “When do we leave?” The question shot from her mouth, her eagerness unhidden.

  “On the morrow. First light. You and Leif along with a small group of Leif’s Wolf Guard will take the tolls over the King’s Highway to Lord’s Point. Leif will be charged with the preparation of Lord’s Point and Lokkenfell and the King’s Gap for war, along with Lord Kelvin Kronnin. Though rumor has it Lord Kronnin has already began preparations. I will order Lars Castlegrail to send dispatches to every city and town in Gul Kana with orders that all able-bodied men are to gather at Lord’s Point. Lord Le Graven will need convincing. As will Lord Chaparral. They will fall in line as soon as this folly involving Lawri and Sterling Prentiss is resolved.”

  Jovan was right. This problem involving the accusations Tala had leveled against Sterling Prentiss could throw a wrench in his plans if something was not done about the Dayknight captain and the missing princess soon. Jondralyn knew that Lawri was safe. But Lord Lott Le Graven believed her to be kidnapped and held by Sterling Prentiss. Lott would not let his twelve-year-old twins, Lorhand and Lilith, leave his side. He wanted Sterling’s head. And the grand vicar stood in the way of Jovan fully stripping Sterling of his post. She would not betray Tala’s trust, though. She would not tell Jovan what she knew of Lawri’s whereabouts. She leveled her gaze at her king. Does he really wish me to die in this journey?

  “Denarius will not like this,” Jondralyn said to Jovan. “Does he wish to fight Aeros Raijael, then? I’d always assumed he was against war.”

  “Many are mistaken about the holy vicar’s motives,” Jovan said. “Roguemoore has polluted your mind against our great prophet. Yes, the grand vicar has always wanted war, but only at the appointed time and place, and only in accordance with scripture and revelation. That time is now, here on Gul Kana soil, as The Way and Truth of Laijon has foretold. The White Prince’s landing on Gul Kana soil is the dawning of Fiery Absolution. The prophecies of Laijon’s return are soon to be fulfilled. And you, Jondralyn, the first woman of the Silver Guard, will usher in Absolution. It is why I did not demand that you give up your training with Hawkwood fully, or your quest to become a gladiator. I could have put a stop to those endeavors long ago. I supported you in my own way. It was I who made you into who you are today.”

  It was all falling into place. Everything Roguemoore had told her. I will be at the forefront of the gathering of all armies that will hasten forth Laijon. Her heart thudded even harder. “Everything serves a purpose” was one of the Brethren’s mottoes. Does my brother unwittingly play his own part in the Moon Scroll prophecies of Mia?

  Another thought entered her mind. She now knew exactly what she would do when she reached Lord’s Point. And it wouldn’t be to wait around for the arrival of the White Prince. No, she knew she would not await her destiny at Lord’s Point but would grab destiny by the reins and ride it into history. She would attack the White Prince wherever she found him. It was the right thing to do. It was what her mother, Alana Bronachell, would have done had she had the opportunity. Aeros Raijael’s bloody crusade will finally be put to an end.

  It would be written by the scribes, ’Twas Jondralyn Bronachell who rode toward the armies of the White Prince and threw the gauntlet of war in the face of Aeros Raijael. Even Roguemoore could not have foreseen this. I am the Princess who will lead armies.

  Jovan rose from his bed, took up his Dayknight blade with the black opal–inlaid pommel, and knighted her one of the Amadon Silver Guard.

  He then handed her the Silver Guard sword. She had never before felt so confident, lofty, and proud.

  This is how my destiny will play out. I will be the harbinger of Absolution.

  * * *

  If you are destined to perish in war, you force your enemy to break their swords and axes when they battle you. You make them know they have been in a battle! You give them scars and lost limbs and dead families to remember you by. You die with a grin that will haunt their dreams.

  —THE CHIVALRIC ILLUMINATIONS OF RAIJAEL

  * * *

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  GAULT AULBREK

  12TH DAY OF THE MOURNING MOON, 999TH YEAR OF LAIJON

  GALLOWS HAVEN, GUL KANA

  A cloudless sky enwrapped the Sør Sevier encampment. Only a cool breeze from the sea kept the Knights of the Blue Sword who’d gathered in front of Aeros’ tent from standing in complete comfort. Aeros was there watching the spar with them,
Sky Reaver at his hip. He stood about thirty paces away from the tent with Hammerfiss, Spades, and the ever-brooding Spiderwood.

  “You mustn’t worry about Jenko,” Gault said to Ava Shay next to him. “From what I can see, he can hold his own against any Hound Guard or Rowdie, and probably even most of Aeros’ Knights of the Blue Sword.” The quick glance the girl gave him was flatly dismissive. Her eyes went back to the two fellows banging swords in front of Aeros’ tent; one was Jenko Bruk, the other Mancellor Allen, the young Wyn Darrè fighter with the braided locks of dirty-blond hair and the black tattoos under his eyes. The two battled on a section of sparse grass rife with divots from their boots. Jenko Bruk had initially refused to engage in any such spar with Mancellor, until Hammerfiss had threatened to lop off his cock and rape his arse with it if he did not.

  Gault had been paying scant attention to the fight, distracted by the Gallows Haven girl next to him. A roguish wind caressed the freshly combed locks of her hair, giving her a windblown, innocent look. But he sensed that whatever light and goodness had once dwelled within the girl had been forever banished behind her sad, numb eyes. There was something unsettling about her lately. But the very sight of the girl affected the tempo of his heartbeat. For his own well-being, he knew he needed to suppress that knotty lurch in his stomach whenever he found himself in her company.

  The Sør Sevier army had been camped in Gallows Haven for more than a week now. This seemingly once proud, productive town with the vast sea at its front and jagged mountains at its back was a ghost of its former self. The massive camp of Aeros’ army now dwarfed the town. Tents spread out as far to the north as the eye could see. The few survivors of the siege were slowly becoming acclimated to their new position as slaves in Aeros’ army. A few years of servitude in the army of the Angel Prince was not at all a bad thing, especially for those who converted to Raijael.

  The obstinate Jenko Bruk was handling his role as slave with less relish than the others. But Enna Spades had slowly taken Jenko under her wing—the young man had spent time, only somewhat reluctantly, under her tutelage. She was bent on teaching him how to fight the Sør Sevier way. As Gault watched Jenko spar with Mancellor Allen, he was impressed with the young man’s skill. Spades had a knack for taking the most stubborn and brutish of captives and eventually turning them into Aeros’ greatest of assets. Gault chalked her success up to her beauty and the slow seduction of her prey. Because of her, Mancellor Allen was now one of the Angel Prince’s most skilled and hardened warriors, and above all, one of his most loyal followers. Indeed, the way Spades worked her wiles, Jenko too would one day more than likely accept the light of Raijael.