The Moon Coin (The Moon Realm Series)

by Richard Due

  Lily knew she should be very tired, but she felt wide awake. How could that be? The saddle?

  “Nimlinn?” Lily shouted to the wind and surf. “Nimlinn? Shouldn’t I be more tired?”

  Nimlinn slowed to a lope.

  “Lily!—” she panted.

  “I should be sleepy,” Lily continued. “I haven’t slept for a day. I really need some—”

  “Lily, don’t!—” roared Nimlinn.

  But it was too late. Lily’s eyes were already drooping down, her body falling forward limply onto Nimlinn’s back.

  “—sleep,” Lily murmured, her head lightly bouncing to the rise and fall of Nimlinn’s ceaseless stride.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Blight Marsh

  There was a sound of waves, and an endless blur of trees. And moons—too many moons. Occasionally, a name. But not much else.

  Later there were more trees—huge trees on all sides, and darkness. By bits and pieces, the world revealed itself and then retreated, hidden from view, back to a restful, peaceful place that Lily had no desire to leave. But there was, sometimes, a name.

  Muffled, faraway sounding: “—Lily.”

  And sometimes: “—Lily, you must wake up.”

  From what?

  It could have been hours. It could have been days. Then finally something she could identify: the discomfort of a pommel that kept bumping.

  “—Lily, you want to be awake. Say it. Think it.”

  Awake? What’s that?

  There was fur, like a pillow, and the smell of an animal. And that pommel, bumping and bruising.

  Lily couldn’t see. Her eyes would not open, and she sensed that something was not right.

  And then she could see. A marsh stretched outward from a forest’s edge. A dead moon hung above. Suspended upside down on its surface were row upon row of siege engines, hurling nets to the moon below. The leading edges of the nets, descending like curtains, slowed down strangely before crossing into Barreth’s gravitational influence. But after picking up speed, the weighted spiked balls and trailing nets splashed and thudded into the black muck and pools of Barreth’s marsh, creating a vast network of black spiderwebs connecting the two moons. The nets filled with dark creatures, moving quickly from the plains of the dead moon to the marsh. Tens of thousands of them, forming in ranks in the wet gloom. Then her vision turned dark, and her eyes still wouldn’t open.

  Lily could hear the sound of Nimlinn running, and a clanking of armor in the saddle with her. And a voice, also nearby, or perhaps inside her head. The voice of a woman, sleepy or confused: “Is that you? Where are you? Are they there? Oh! Ride swiftly, my love.”

  Lily opened her eyes again. They were barreling down a long straight corridor through the forest—a tunnel of trees. The end of the tunnel was filled with light, and marked the entrance to the marsh. They raced to the edge of the forest without slowing.

  Dark forces roared a single name. Over and over again, echoing across the water. The webs were growing taut now, as the spikes and balls were lifted by the departing moon, dripping through the dank air. At the bottom of one net was a lone figure, yelling something as he rose. Then, from his hands, a terrible light flashed. The waters of the marsh churned sickly green, and dull lights moved within the black waters. Dark shapes broke the surface. A nightmarish noise—shouts and screams and laughter—rose from the hideous army. Lily watched the lone figure, watched its head swivel to the forest’s edge. She could feel its eyes in the darkness, seeing her, looking into her. And she thought, I must wake up!

  Lily jerked upright in the saddle. She wiped the drool from her cheek with her sleeve and rubbed the sore spot on her side where the saddle’s pommel had dug into her.

  “Lily!” said Nimlinn. “Wish yourself alert!”

  Without hesitation, Lily complied, and at once the whole world snapped into clear focus. She was still being swiftly borne by Nimlinn, hurtling toward the Blight Marsh. But the ocean was gone. They were on a wide path. Trees towered on both sides, crowding out the sky with their thick branches and foliage.

  “What is this place?”

  “We are in the tree tunnel, passing through the Northern Neck of Rihnwood, on our way to the Blight Marsh.”

  “Nimlinn!” Lily yelled desperately. “We must turn back. It’s a trap!”

  Nimlinn did not slow. But this news changed the way she ran. She lowered her body, and her head swept to all angles as she took in the dark surroundings.

  “What are you talking about, Lily?”

  Lily explained to Nimlinn about the nets and the army forming in the Blight Marsh, but when she got to the part about the woman’s voice, she paused. A small light near the pommel had caught her eye. She moved her hands in a shooing motion, but the light followed her hand. Then she saw it. The light shone from the ring on her hand. Lily raised the slim silver band to her face. The half circle on it glowed a bright milky white. Had it been doing that before?

  “A dream, Lily,” said Nimlinn. “Nothing more. We are heading for a crossover with Taw. The moon Darwyth is now far away. No moon can cross over twice in such a short time. There is no way that what you’ve seen could be happening now. You must trust me.”

  Nimlinn’s words did nothing to dispel Lily’s dread, and the closer they drew to the Blight Marsh, the worse the feeling grew. The figure she had seen rising in the nets—those eyes! It must have been more than a dream.

  And the woman’s voice. . . . It was as if the woman had been talking to her, but not to her—like listening in on a phone line.

  Shafts of bright green light shone through the treetops like stage lights on the path ahead, but no such shafts penetrated the deep forest to either side. The boles of the trees were wide and gnarled. Running through them would have been difficult. Lily wondered how the wide path had ever been cut in the first place. It must have been like blasting through stone.

  “What is that light? And why is it so green?” asked Lily.

  “It is from the reflection of Taw. It’s green because Taw is all trees. This means Taw is descending, filling the sky. Lily, we still have a chance!”

  Nimlinn labored to increase her speed, and the trees blurred.

  “Nimlinn, you’re exhausted.”

  “I’m fine. It’s not much farther.”

  Lily felt like she was atop a train barreling down a green tunnel. As they rounded a bend, she saw the tree tunnel’s exit looming into view, and through it, more of the intensely green light.

  Her anxiety continued to increase.

  “We should slow down, Nimlinn.” Lily patted Nimlinn’s neck heavily with her open hand. “We should sneak up to the edge. We don’t want to do what they did.” In the dream. Lily balled her hands into fists, pounding harder. “Nimlinn, listen to me. Listen to me! We don’t want to be seen!” She screamed, her voice rising sharply.

  “No! We must hurry!”

  Lily groped at the straps holding her legs. The straps were tight, and her hands shook. Then Nimlinn burst through the forest’s edge and into the Blight Marsh. It was a dead, festering landscape, and the smell of sulfur and rotting wood filled Lily’s nostrils. Above their heads, now filling all the open sky, was a lush green world of trees. And it was descending quickly.

  “You see, Lily!” panted Nimlinn. “It’s Taw! Just as I said it would be.”

  Lily let go of the straps, her head swimming. Something terrible and loathsome, something in the very air, began leeching at Lily’s mind. Thick mists hung over the stagnant pools; insects buzzed and swarmed over dark clumps of decaying wood and fetid grasses.

  Nimlinn slowed, stopping at the edge of a dark pool. “This part will be a little trickier.” Tentatively, she pressed her paw into the damp earth and the depression quickly filled with water. There was a sucking sound whe
n she pulled away her paw and gave it a shake, flicking away the water.

  “We’re going in there?” asked Lily.

  “Yes. I can see the way.” Nimlinn crouched at the edge of a pool, then launched herself into the marsh, landing on a clump of soft, squishy peat.

  “Ugh,” she complained, flicking more water off her paws with every step. Slowly, carefully, Nimlinn took them deeper into the morass.

  “Before we left Sea Denn, I gave the power of sight to the swiftest messenger I could find. She will have crossed over to Taw the instant the wind eddies died down enough to give her safe passage. I imagine Aleron mobilized a flock as soon as he saw Barreth shrouded by darkness. We will not have to wait long to find out if we have been successful.”

  “How will the others see through the darkness?”

  “Roan’s darkness faded during your rest. It has been almost a full day since we left.”

  Lily tried to fight the creeping uneasiness the Blight Marsh radiated, but it was hard. She shifted her gaze upward and watched Taw descend. Behind a few wispy clouds, she could see an endless canopy of trees, through which broke the occasional rocky cliff or waterfall. Watching a whole moon slowly fill the sky was awe-inspiring.

  “How can they breathe when they fly between?”

  “At a time of crossover, our atmosphere and that of the moon reach out to each other and join. The wind eddies created at that time are deadly, but they calm down before they reach the lower atmosphere. I have been told that the switch in gravity from one world to the next can be dizzying, but approaching with enough speed can lessen the effect. At least, if you happen to be flying. Lily! Hang on!”

  Nimlinn stood up on her hind feet and waved her massive front paws, crossing and uncrossing them repeatedly.

  “What is it, Nimlinn? Do you see them?”

  “Yes. And it is Aleron! I can see the missing feathers on his right wing. Do you see, Lily?”

  Lily, holding tightly to the pommel, strained her eyes until she could just make out a small flock of birds descending steeply through the clouds.

  Nimlinn planted her front paws firmly. “Lily, get out your moon coin!”

  Lily hastily grabbed the necklace and gave it a yank. The pendant popped out from under her shirt, and she snatched it up. The little golden moons were dull.

  “You’ve done it, Nimlinn! You got us here in time!”

  “Oh, Lily, don’t say that! Not yet,” Nimlinn cautioned. “Now, quickly, hold the face of the pendant up to the sky—Aleron’s vision is like no other’s.”

  Lily ripped off the necklace and wound the chain around her wrist. Her hand was so unsteady she had to grab her forearm with her other hand to hold it still as she held it high.

  One of the birds tucked its wings, dropping like a stone before bursting into frenzied activity.

  “He’s seen it,” said Nimlinn.

  “But—”

  “Hush now! Let me listen!” Nimlinn strained to hear.

  Lily, holding the coin, willed it to focus on Aleron. And a moment later, she felt the now familiar pulse of the coin in her hand. In her head she heard the words: “No! Not there!”

  Lily stopped breathing.

  Aleron called out again. He was approaching very swiftly. Again the coin pulsed, and she heard his words in her head. He sounded more alarmed. “Release it! Release it! Now! No time to—”

  Lily felt her last shred of hope rip away. With a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, she turned the pendant to face her, still holding it high. The little moons glowed a soft silvery white.

  “Oh! Oh, no!” she gasped. Her fingers fumbled, and the pendant slipped through them, the necklace sliding down her arm to her shoulder. “No! No! No!” she repeated, grabbing at the thing, trying to right it in her hand, searching for the fob. Lily felt the world begin to fade, just like before, in her bedroom.

  “Nimlinn!” she cried out.

  “Oh, Lily!” said Nimlinn. “I’m so sorry.”

  As the world grew dark about her, she heard a final cry from above. Lily looked up to see a huge, bright bird swooping down, claws open, streaking toward her hands, toward the pendant. But the turbulent waves were snatching at her. As she felt herself slipping away, she heard three words: Eel, Eight, Ear. It sounded like Nimlinn’s voice. And then she was gone, engulfed in the sound of crashing waves, spinning end over end. Only this time, she dared to breathe.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dragon

  Lily had been through this once before, from her bedroom to Barreth, and she was confident she’d make it through this time, too. She landed feet first on damp stone, but toppled, pitching over and sliding a few feet before slamming to a stop. Her mind was dark and dizzy, and her limbs felt weakened. Twitching, out of breath, she waited for her strength and wits to revive. The stone was cold and damp against her cheek.

  As soon as she felt able, she sat upright. She pulled herself to her feet and gave her head a vigorous shake. Her mind seemed to be clearing more quickly this time, and yet her sight had still not returned.

  She blinked her eyes a few times and attempted a survey of her new surroundings. There was a chill breeze, and she could make out the dim shapes of drifting clouds, and their shadows on the stones before her. So her eyes were working—it was just nighttime here.

  Lily shivered and drew her cloak more firmly about her. Her stomach growled. When had she last eaten? She made mental notes for next time: food, water, flashlight. The thought of food sparked another image of Ebb, this time in his kitchen. He was rapidly manufacturing sandwiches at his big wooden cutting board and handing some to her and Jasper.

  “For your walk home,” he’d said, with that warm, crooked smile of his. But he had made for himself more than a dozen, wrapped them all in wax paper, and stuffed them into his coat of many pockets. Lily concentrated. What kind of shoes had he been wearing? Was there a hat? Had he let slip any clues? In retrospect, it was obvious he’d been preparing for a journey.

  Lily plumbed the depths of her memories. Had he been wearing his farm boots? She couldn’t remember, and she was infuriated—not just at the poorness of her memory, but at Ebb’s living a double life right under their noses. And she hadn’t suspected a thing!

  Lily let the memory go. It wasn’t going to give up any more than it already had. But there would be other memories, things Ebb had said or done that seemed to mean one thing but turned out to mean another. She would have to rethink everything and sift her memories for clues. And she’d really have to be on her guard around her parents.

  A noise of rolling rocks brought Lily back to the present in an instant. Insects chirped. Frogs, very large frogs from the sound of it, croaked in the distance. Her eyes had adjusted. More quickly this time? It was hard to tell, given the night.

  Dense clouds filled the sky, with few openings to show the moons and stars. The landscape was bleak and rolling, covered in layered blankets of wispy ground fog. Lily studied a small break in the clouds. She could see part of a greenish-blue moon. “Taw,” she said aloud.

  As she lingered, and the break in the clouds shifted, she saw part of an orangish-brown-and-blue one next to it. “And Barreth.”

  They were still in crossover. This was bad news; if she could see them in the sky, then that meant she wasn’t on either of them. And Taw had sounded pretty good, too—but she didn’t allow this information to sink her spirits. Not yet.

  A pain shot through her hand, and Lily suddenly became aware of how tightly she was grasping the pendant. The moon coin’s face was dark again—no ring of little glowing moons. Taking great care, she made sure the fob was closed before slipping the necklace back on and tucking the pendant beneath her shirt.

  Slowly, she gave her surroundings a once-over. She was halfway up a steep slope, on what might have been, at some bet
ter time, a well-kept flight of stone stairs. The air was dank and pungent, but she thought she also smelled a hint of woodsmoke. Looking around, though, she could detect no firelight to account for it.

  At the foot of the slope was a bottomland. Punctuated by rocky mounds, it continued into the distance until it disappeared into the night mists. Among the mounds were a few stunted trees and piles of rubble, chiefly stone, covered in what looked like damp moss. While taking this all in, she heard a new sound, like that of a long hollow log being dragged across stone, echoing upward from below. The insects and frogs went silent for a time before slowly resuming.

  Lily wondered if she might be on Dain or worse, on Darwyth. Neither would be good; Nimlinn had said so. She looked up again and noticed a thin line of smoke amidst the cloud cover. Had that been there before? Craning her neck, Lily followed it back to its source, somewhere higher up the steps. A fire? The one she’d smelled earlier?

  The sound rose again, closer this time: a long hollow log being dragged across stone. Not wanting to wait around, Lily made her way up the tall broken steps, navigating as best she could over bits of stone and debris. At the top, the stairs emptied into a wide, dilapidated thoroughfare, in the center of which was a fountain, its once-commanding structure collapsing into cobblestones. In the scant moonlight, Lily could just make out the toppled form of the smashed and disintegrating dragon that had once been the fountain’s centerpiece.

  The edges of the thoroughfare were marked by bone-white stonework, chest-high and laced with dark moss and lichen. The street ran to the remains of a circular keep, now no more than twenty or thirty feet at its highest point. A few scrubby trees grew out of the stone, their gnarled roots exposed, their twisted, leafless branches looking poisoned. An occasional stone arch, still intact, marked doorways that now led nowhere.