The Moon Coin (The Moon Realm Series)

by Richard Due

  “Lily!” rumbled Nimlinn.

  Hovering indecisively, feeling rushed, Lily picked up a modest ring with a half circle on it and held it up to show Nimlinn.

  Nimlinn’s whiskers drooped. “That? That tiny thing?”

  Lily looked down at the ring. “Actually, it’s kinda big. Maybe I could hang it from a necklace,” she said, holding it up to her neck and smiling hopefully.

  Nimlinn’s face twitched, and Lily suspected she was fighting off a smile. “Oh, Lily, you are as impractical as any cub of mine. That I can fix. Bring it here.”

  Lily placed the slight ring in Nimlinn’s huge paw. Nimlinn closed her eyes and began to make a deep rumbling noise in the back of her throat, only to stop abruptly a second later. She opened her eyes a crack and tilted her great head to one side, furrowing her brow and staring at the ring suspiciously.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Lily.

  “Hold out your hand,” Nimlinn commanded. Nimlinn dropped the ring into Lily’s palm. “Put it on.”

  Lily stared at the oversized ring in her palm. It looked even bigger than she had thought. Not wanting to upset Nimlinn, however, she did as she was told. To Lily’s surprise, the ring, once on her finger, shrank and became snug.

  Lily looked up to see Nimlinn still eyeing the ring.

  “What is it now?” asked Lily.

  Nimlinn produced a single hooked claw from her paw and tapped the ring gently with it. “I don’t know, but I think you could have done far worse in your choosing. That is no simple band of metal on your finger. There is far more to it than that.”

  Lily held up her hand and examined the ring more closely. It was silver, and very slim. It looked like a wedding ring, but it was crowned by that half circle, set with a small white stone.

  “Finished!” barked Snerliff.

  Snerliff and Twizbang, now buried waist-deep in Nimlinn’s amber fur, appeared, at first, to be quite pleased with themselves.

  Then Twizbang’s face fell. “Greydor will eat us. I know it,” he whined in a miserable-sounding voice.

  “Nonsense,” snorted Nimlinn, “a Rinn hasn’t eaten a wyfling in over a hundred years.” Neither Snerliff nor Twizbang seemed particularly comforted by this news. “Now, ready the saddle—and be quick about it!”

  The wyflings ran to the pillars and quickly began filling the saddlebags with their original contents. Lily readied the blankets and draped them over Nimlinn’s newly shorn back, but it took all three of them to lift the saddle and set it properly into place atop the blankets. Though the saddle itself was strangely light, its tremendous size nonetheless made for an awkward transfer. Tightening the belts also proved to be a difficult task, as Nimlinn complained continually that the straps were too tight, but the wyflings, who were expert in saddling wirtles, refused to modify the fit, simply saying, “Very snug, very snug.”

  Once saddled, Nimlinn shuffled—while still in the sphinx position—to the pedestal that displayed the huge metal discs. Snerliff and Twizbang, each standing on a pedestal, handed the discs one at a time to Lily, who was kneeling in the saddle. They must have weighed forty pounds apiece, and it took all of the wyflings’ strength to manage the transfer, but once the discs were properly stowed in their thick protective cases, they seemed quite safe.

  Finally, they attached all of the now-full saddle bags to their rightful positions on the saddle.

  “Is it heavy, Nimlinn?” asked Lily, thinking the Rinn would be displeased by the added weight, especially as she had never worn a saddle before.

  Nimlinn slunk back closer to the doors, where the ceiling was a little taller, and crouched. She shifted her weight.

  “No, it’s not,” she said, sounding a little surprised. “And it’s balanced perfectly.” She cast an appreciative glance at the two beaming wyflings.

  “Is that little ring all you can find, Lily?”

  “Well . . .” said Lily, turning and looking doubtfully around the room.

  Nimlinn sighed. “Lily, go to that one in the corner, the small one. I see a fine riding cloak there. You will want something to keep you warm. And see if those riding boots fit.”

  “Boots?” said Lily, perking up. “Riding boots?”

  Lily strode into the far corner, weaving around the pillars and lanterns to a slab that showed the likeness of a young teen. He, or she (it was hard to tell), was the only youth in the room. Lily grabbed the cloak, which appeared to be in perfect condition, and draped it around her shoulders. She thought about grabbing the fine leather vest, too, but she didn’t want to seem piggish. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from fondling it lightly with her fingertips. It was perfect, with no signs of cracks or age.

  And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw them—the riding boots. They were a dark green and just as supple as if they’d been oiled that morning. “Mine,” she breathed, snatching them up. She placed one sole-to-sole with her purple high-tops. A tad large in the toe, but Lily knew what to do there. They had beautiful lacing, and a slight rise to the heel. Lily frantically unlaced her high-tops and stood up with them in her hand, spinning around twice before deciding to place them on the slab in the exact place the riding boots had come from. They looked terribly out of place.

  “You live here now,” she said quietly to her favorite shoes.

  Skidding in her fuzzy socks, Lily rushed back to Nimlinn and held the riding boots aloft as if displaying a great prize.

  “Boots!” she exclaimed excitedly.

  “Yes, I know. But now that I see them up close they do look a bit large. Don’t you think?” asked Nimlinn, narrowing her eyes.

  “No matter,” said Lily, and she knelt down and quickly packed the toes with a bit of Nimlinn’s fur before lacing them tightly about her ankles. Jumping up, she pointed a toe to the floor and swiveled right and left, showing them off to Snerliff and Twizbang. “What do you think?”

  “Very lovely,” said Snerliff, politely. He gave Twizbang a small kick.

  “Yes, indeed,” offered Twizbang. “A fine pair of boots.”

  “Nimlinn,” began Lily, looking about the tomb, “how old do you think this place is?”

  “I have often wondered that myself. It is ancient, to be sure, but knowledge of its existence has come to us only recently.”

  Pinching the lapel of her riding cloak, Lily said, “This material appears untouched by time, but there are other things here that look like they’ve been here for thousands of years. Why?”

  “I imagine a powerful enchantment has been placed on this Tomb. And I suspect many of these items have magic of their own.”

  Lily pulled the riding cloak on. Pretty good, she thought with satisfaction. “Do you think the things will fall apart if they leave this room? I’d hate to destroy them.”

  “I had not considered that, but there’s an easy way to find out.” Nimlinn nodded to the open doors.

  Lily walked solemnly to the edge of the doorway, pausing to glance back over her shoulder at the wyflings and Nimlinn, who were now watching her intently. Lily grimaced and pushed the toe of her boot over the threshold. Nothing happened. She lifted her foot and planted the boot fully outside of the tomb. Still nothing. Lily’s face broke into a grin. “It’s fine! It’s okay!” she said, giggling in relief.

  “Now,” began Nimlinn, “there is one more—”

  “Wait!” said Lily, emboldened.

  Nimlinn’s eyes widened, partly from curiosity and partly from the shock of having a mere cub speak to her this way.

  Lily dashed back to where she had gotten the boots and quickly scanned the few remaining articles on the sills. The previous owner had traveled light. Lily tucked a small helm under her arm. “Now, what does Jasper call these metal thingies?” she muttered, as she picked up a pair of properly-sized vambraces. “Those are for my arms, and the
se,” she paused to pick up a matching pair of greaves, “are for my shins.”

  Next, Lily ran to the great slab in the center. She had seen a strange wooden ball there, about the size of a baseball, covered with dark designs that had been burned into the wood. The weight of it surprised her; it was much heavier than she’d expected. Turning it, she noticed a hinge and a clasp. Unfastening it, Lily peered inside and saw a small, dark crystal sphere. She closed it quickly and fastened the lock. Ooh, mysterious, she thought. Lily placed it back on the slab, where it belonged.

  “Finished?” asked Nimlinn.

  Lily nodded, still staring at the wooden ball. So much writing. What if the writing was instructions? What if she could find someone who could read it?

  “Good. Now, there is one more thing before we go.”

  Lily took a few steps toward Nimlinn, stopped, then doubled back to the slab, picked up the ball and tucked it into an inner pocket of her cloak.

  “It won’t do to have the three of you blind while we are out and about in Roan’s darkness, so I will provide you with enough sight to last you through this day. Do not move until I say.”

  Nimlinn lowered her head, and a low rumbling from the back of her throat began to fill the room. The rumble continued for a full minute, then changed, slowly becoming chant-like. Suddenly, Nimlinn swept back her ears and grimaced.

  Lily felt something strange happening, as when Roan and the others had been chanting. She fingered the moon coin and had a terrible thought. What if Nimlinn, in trying to give them the sight, undid Roan’s enchantment? Lily clasped the coin with her fingers and thought to it:

  Don’t do anything! Don’t do anything to Roan’s spell!

  Nimlinn lifted an eyelid just a crack. Her pupil was wide, a thin rim of amber surrounding it. She did not break her spell, but she took a good hard look at Lily before closing her eye.

  “What is it, Your Majesty?” asked Snerliff, when Nimlinn finally finished.

  Nimlinn took a deep breath, reviving visibly.

  “It was like with Roan,” said Lily, in a faraway voice.

  “Lily,” began Nimlinn, in a hushed tone, “what exactly happened when you were with Roan?”

  “Nothing,” said Lily quickly.

  “Think, Lily. You must have done something.”

  “I—I remember seeing the darkness forming in the air. There were lots of arrows coming at us. The others were swatting them out of the air like flies, but there were so many. I remember thinking . . . darkness, what a great idea.”

  Nimlinn’s and Lily’s eyes locked. “And just now? What did you think about?”

  “I was afraid you might undo Roan’s darkness, so I told the coin to leave his spell alone.”

  “For a moment,” Nimlinn paused, as though considering what she might say next, “I felt the presence of a bottomless power, Lily, before it was doused, like blacking cloth thrown over a lamp. I have cast many spells in the presence of Ebbram the Wanderer, and I never once felt anything like that.

  “But we are wasting precious time. Climb aboard, Lily. It is time for us to begin our journey.”

  Twizbang and Snerliff helped push Lily up into the saddle and showed her how to strap in her legs.

  Nimlinn looked down at the two wyflings. “You too, little fools,” she said.

  “Us?” squeaked Twizbang, in a barely audible voice.

  “Climb aboard. You will make useful scouts, now that you can see. When we pass the wirtle pens at Clawforge, we will find you two steeds, and I will give them the same sight I’ve given you.”

  Lily pulled Snerliff into the saddle. Twizbang made little whimpering noises while clambering up but did not make Nimlinn wait.

  Once all were in place, Nimlinn exited the tomb and padded over to where the stained glass doors reflected the sun on the rock wall. She produced a single claw and traced the outline of the orange sun, murmuring several words that Lily could not make out. The rock snapped apart where she traced.

  Twizbang gasped.

  A passage revealed itself, and the instant it became wide enough to accommodate her, Nimlinn bounded through. Within this passage, little to no light shone, but whether by scent, knowledge, or superior sight, she knew her way and proceeded rapidly.

  Lily turned in the saddle to face Snerliff. “Can you see through this?” Lily whispered.

  “A bit. There is a small amount of light being given off by the walls, perhaps from something growing on the rock, but it’s not much.”

  “Why can’t we see? Didn’t she say we’d be able to see in Roan’s darkness?”

  “Ah,” said Snerliff. “The darkness outside of the Palace Keep is magical in nature. But here, there is no light for the darkness to mask. Here, it is truly dark. If we were to light a torch or lantern, we would see just fine. But we have no need of such things, as a Rinn’s eyesight in the dark is unparalleled. Indeed, with their whiskers alone they can tell much just by the temperature and direction of the air as it moves about them. Most remarkable creatures, the Rinn. We are very fortunate to have their friendship.”

  What little Lily could make out of this dark passage beneath Sea Denn led her to believe that it was more roughly-hewn than even the worst part of the staircase leading to the Tomb of the Fallen. During portions of their passage, the sound of Nimlinn’s padding paws echoed as though through cavernous halls; other times Nimlinn would slow to a crawl, the sound so tight that Lily feared she might bump her head at the low point of some unseen ceiling. At times, she heard the trickling of water, or a gushing stream, and even, at one point, the sound of a roaring waterfall.

  After what felt like half an hour, Nimlinn came to an abrupt halt.

  “What is it, Nimlinn?” asked Lily.

  “We have reached the door. On the other side lies the eastern slope of Sea Denn. The path beyond this wall is ancient, steep, and well-hidden. We will be safe from prying eyes until we leave the slope and head for the eastern gate, which lies in the shadow of the now-emptied Tower of Clawforge. And yet, we must be clear in our plan.”

  “Will there be guards at the eastern gate, Mistress?” asked Snerliff.

  “No, Greydor has summoned every able body to the field. Not even the bats have reason to fly here now.”

  “Clawforge is defenseless?” moaned Twizbang.

  “Don’t worry. Greydor knows what he is doing. He has seized this sliver of opportunity, and he will leave nothing to chance. What we need to do now is get the two of you mounted on wirtleback. As soon as I can give them the sight, you will head for the eastern gate and make sure that it is indeed empty. We must leave nothing to chance. After we clear the gate, we’ll make for the mountains, to the pass at Armashen. Once through the mountains, we’ll follow the old sea road, along the edge of Rihnwood, and then through the great neck to the Blight Marsh. Are we all clear on this?”

  Snerliff and Twizbang assented. Nimlinn began her chant.

  The rock snapped, and a curved shaft of bright light cut into the dark tunnel. A round opening formed, and Nimlinn bounded out into a daylight clearer than Lily had ever known. By reflex, she threw up her hands to shield her eyes. But she realized very quickly that this strangely clear light did not hurt her eyes. So it wasn’t until Lily lowered her hands and looked out onto the narrow path that she saw they were completely surrounded.

  Chapter Ten

  Race Against Time

  No sooner had Nimlinn bounded through the opening than the rock behind them sealed shut. They were trapped. Snerliff and Twizbang screamed as though they’d been set on fire. A clutter of Rinn, panting and out of breath, perched atop the boulders half-hidden among the crags.

  Lily glanced up. The dead moon was receding, but it still took up a third of the open sky. Around it were other moons, large and small, weaving among each other at different r
ates of speed.

  Directly in front of them, blocking the path, stood Roan.

  “Roan!” gasped Nimlinn. “But how?”

  Roan tossed his head toward a disheveled Rinn, lying lazily atop one of the taller boulders. Lily had to look twice to see him, which she thought odd, given the clarity of her new sight. His fur was the color of sand, perfectly matching the rock he chose to rest on. Thick mats twined throughout his long fur.

  “Tanglemane,” sneered Nimlinn. “Just how is it you came to know this place?”

  Instead of answering, the Rinn merely settled lower on his perch, rested his pointed chin on his huge outstretched paws, and closed his eyes as though to sleep.

  Lily felt Nimlinn’s scalp bristle.

  Nimlinn turned to Roan. “Greydor ordered you to the field. You have disobeyed your King. Leave this place at once,” she commanded.

  “Stand fast!” barked Roan to his clutter. He gazed at his queen. “This is not a decision that I have made lightly, Your Majesty. It is far too dangerous for you to travel this day alone.”

  “You will do as I say!” roared Nimlinn. Roan didn’t flinch.

  “I will not leave you,” he stated calmly.

  Lily felt Nimlinn shudder with rage.

  “You will leave,” Nimlinn seethed, “or you will be banished, you and all your clutter.”

  Roan’s reply was immediate. “Then I am banished,” he said flatly. And then, to his clutter, “You are all relieved of my command. Do as you will.”

  The only signs of movement came from the wind stirring their long fur.

  “Tell them to leave, Roan.”

  “I cannot. They are no longer mine to command, as I am no longer in the service of my King. Now, Nimlinn, where are we going? I assume we have little time to waste.”