by Richard Due
“Almost, I guess. I mean . . . I’ve figured out a little of how it works.” Lily palmed the pendant and moved her thumb to the fob.
“Wait!” hissed Ember. She jumped up from her chair, but seeing that Lily had stayed her hand, suppressed her initial alarm. By the time Ember crossed the room, her countenance had changed.
“Dubb,” she said, “I need to be alone with Lily for a few minutes. Is there something you and Tavin could do for a little while?”
Dubb and Tavin nearly fell over each other trying to get through the hall and out the front door.
After the door shut, Ember turned to face Lily. Lily was tall for her age, and they stood nearly eye to eye. Ember’s hair was a beautiful shade of amber that didn’t look quite natural. She had wide green eyes, a slender nose, and a face that, below her cheekbones, quickly narrowed to a smallish, attractive mouth. Lily guessed her to be in her early thirties. She looked strong and capable. The gown she wore was gorgeous, made of a purple satin-like material. Lily had seen nothing like it in the Moon Realm so far. It was tailored like something out of a Jane Austen novel, or possibly an earlier style.
“Lily,” said Ember in a hushed voice, “you must not show this pendant to anyone. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Even more importantly,” Ember continued, her eyes narrowing with emphasis, “do not tell anyone how to operate it. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”
Lily nodded.
“Very well. Now let me explain a few things. But first, you must tell me how you knew to come here. Did Lord Autumn give you instructions?”
A feeling of dread came over Lily, and she wondered if Ember could sense it.
“Lily?”
It seemed unfair that Lily should have to pick and choose whom to trust with so little to go on. She would have preferred having more time. But time was short, and she needed to know how to operate the moon coin. She needed to get home. Nimlinn trusted Ember. And Lily already trusted Nimlinn with her life. That would have to do—at least for now.
Lily took a deep breath. “Ember,” she began, not wanting to finish her sentence, “I . . . I just spun the moons around—”
Ember reeled. Her eyes suddenly dark and wild, she pounced on Lily.
“Lily! You could have been sent anywhere! You could have been sent to Darwyth! You could have been sent straight into the arms of Wrengfoul!”
Ember’s reaction frightened Lily, but she knew that if she didn’t tell all of it—now—she might not have the nerve to tell her later.
“Ember, this isn’t exactly the first place I’ve been.”
A vein popped out at Ember’s temple.
“Where did it send you?” she screamed. “Where have you been?”
“Barreth. I’ve been to Barreth. I met Nimlinn and Greydor and Roan—I met wyflings and wirtles, and I saw the Wornot, and scaramann.”
“Scaramann!” moaned Ember. “So it’s true—Wrengfoul has moved against Barreth!”
Lily knew exactly how Ember felt. Fear and empathy bubbled up from some locked place deep inside. Finally she was safe, here with Ember, in of all places, Tavin’s guardhouse. Now she could finally panic. “They’ve taken Fangdelve!” she blurted, tears welling up in her eyes. “I saw it happening! I saw the scaramann filling the valley like a black ocean. Nimlinn tried to help me. She tried to get me to someplace safe, but the coin brought me here before Aleron could reach us!”
Ember sat on the edge of the bed. Not knowing what else to do or say, Lily sat beside her and waited. The fire sputtered and wheezed.
Holding the moon coin before her, Lily stared at it forlornly. “I spun it around the second time, too,” she added. “When I was on Barreth.”
Unable to look at Lily, and still unable to speak, Ember reached out and covered the moon coin with her palm.
Lily’s words tumbled out uncontrollably. “I didn’t know what else to do. The little moons wouldn’t light up. They just stayed golden. At first I thought I might just have to close it again and start over, but after I opened it—”
Ember silently raised her hand from the moon coin and placed it over Lily’s mouth.
“Mumph,” said Lily.
“Shush, child,” said Ember, still not ready to meet Lily’s eyes.
Without moving her head, Lily allowed her eyes to wander the room. A soft light leaked though the high, rectangular window she had seen from outside. Its panes were so sooty that had it not been propped ajar, she wouldn’t have been able to see out at all. Outside, the clouds glowed eerily through the haze of smoke. Lily wondered which moon or moons were hiding behind the gloom.
When Ember finished composing her thoughts, she lowered her hand and spoke calmly.
“The moon coin, when properly replenished, will take you to any of the moons in the Moon Realm, or back to your own.”
“You know of my . . . ?” Lily trailed off, suddenly unsure what to say or not say.
“Yes. Now listen. When you’re here, it takes less time for the coin to replenish itself if you’re traveling to another moon within the Realm. When going back to your moon, however, the coin needs much longer.” Lily smiled inwardly at the idea of Earth being a moon. “On your world, the coin replenishes fastest of all. I don’t understand why—maybe due to an abundance of magic native to your moon.”
Lily pressed her lips together tightly. It felt strange trying to hide a grin when she felt so anxious to get home. Abundant magic? On Earth?
“Listen carefully—this is a bit tricky. When you leave a moon, the coin will remember the last place you were. Meaning, if you were to leave from this house right now, you would come back here when you next returned to Dain. If instead you left from some other location, you would return to that place.” Ember touched Lily’s chin, making sure she was paying attention. “Do you understand?”
Lily nodded. “So you’re saying that if I went back to Barreth, I would return to the Blight Marsh.”
“You left from the Blight Marsh?” said Ember, her shoulders sagging.
“That’s where the crossover with Taw was.”
“How very unfortunate. Then that option for returning to Barreth is closed to you. The Blight Marsh is far too dangerous.”
“Then how can I return?” Lily asked, but her quick mind had already jumped to the answer.
“You can return by way of crossover, but only if you choose a safer location and make arrangements for friendly Rinn to meet you there.”
“Like you do,” said Lily.
Ember looked her in the eye. “And what makes you think that?”
“You’ve visited Clawforge. You’d have been risking your life unless the Rinn thought you were a cub. And you’re no cub.”
Ember smiled. “You learn quickly. This is good.”
“I need to get back to Barreth. Can I go back with you?”
“We’ll see.”
“How will I contact you?” asked Lily.
“Dubb, or any of the others, can reach me easily. Just make sure that when you leave Dain, you leave from someplace you feel safe coming back to—like home.”
“Return here?” said Lily, clearly appalled at the thought.
Ember had no idea what was disturbing Lily. “You’ll be safe,” she explained reassuringly. “I can’t think of anyplace safer, or as well hidden. Tavin is rarely here.”
Lily wondered if now was the time to mention that Tavin had tried to kill her. But while she debated, Ember continued, “Enough talk. Now let me show you some things.”
Ember took Lily’s hand, the one holding the moon coin, and pointed one by one to the ten small circles. “This one is yours.” Earth’s was slightly larger than the others, and next to it was a tiny dot that Lily hadn’t noticed before. Annoyance flooded through her. How
had she missed Earth’s moon when she was sketching the coin? Had it been obscured by the pincer?
Closer to the center was the ring of symbols, each next to its corresponding moon. Ember pointed to each in turn. “Earth, Barreth, Dain, Darwyth, Dik Dek, The Lazy Moon, Min Tar, Rel’ Kah, The Secret Moon, Taw. But you already know all of their names. Don’t you?”
Lily licked her lips and repeated the rhyme her uncle had taught her and Jasper so long ago:
Conjured Rinnjinn in Fangdelve keep,
the Rinn of Barreth making.
Pearl of Dik Dek in oceans deep,
mer-made all for the taking.
Kormor’s work, hammer and anvil,
giants of Min Tar she forged.
Terrible beauty Faerathil,
in Rel’ Kah her dreams she poured.
Three hearts bejewel the crown of Dain
Dragon, King, and Naramay.
Lazy lives the long life in twain,
keying a lone memory.
From grove to bird did language fly,
fluttering from Taw to Realm.
Tinker’s Secret? None to tell.
Darwyth’s rising—a wellspring dell.
“‘A wellspring dell?’” repeated Ember, tilting her head quizzically. “On Dain, we say, ‘Dead moon rising—a paradise fell.’”
“I like ours better,” said Lily quietly.
Ember gave Lily a pained smile. “Me too.”
“Uncle Ebb rarely spoke of Darwyth. But when he did, he talked of beautiful forests and great oceans.” A warmth spread over her as she remembered his face, which was so much like her mother’s, and heard his voice in her mind. “He loved the oceans most of all.” She gazed up at the open window. “Of course, a lot of things are different in the Moon Realm.”
Lily noticed Ember looking at her appraisingly.
“Lily, do you know what your uncle has been up to here?”
“No. Until I arrived on Barreth, I never suspected the Moon Realm was real. All I know I learned from—”
“—bedtime stories,” Ember finished.
“Tales,” said Lily softly. “Bedtime tales.”
Ember nodded knowingly. “Tales, yes. I misspoke.”
Ember seemed to know so much! It disturbed Lily, and she felt even worse that she was having trouble hiding it, but she composed herself. Hiding things from Ember was going to be even harder than hiding things from her mother. And then it hit her: what did she really know about her mother? Lily fought to remain calm.
“You seem to know quite a bit about my family,” Lily continued, “and about me . . . even my brother.”
“Your uncle has been working here, in the Moon Realm, for longer than you know.”
“Keegan thinks he’s been around for over a hundred years,” said Lily quickly. “But that can’t be. I mean, sure, he’s old—like in his 40s—but a hundred? No way.”
“I see,” said Ember, her eyes filling with mirth. “Well, I can assure you he’s far older than forty. And while it’s true that I know many things that you don’t, I suspect you know the most about your uncle. He only talked about you and your brother once. He said certain things would come to pass long after I was dead.”
Ember walked to the dresser and began to examine the rubbings idly.
“Even the wisest predictions fail,” she said, almost as though talking to herself. “Would you like to know what I think?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here, not now anyway. And I fear that all your uncle’s hard work may be unraveling.”
“His work?”
“Yes. His life’s work: to see the Moon Realm united. He’s been desperate for it, yet very patient and obsessively careful. His disappearance, I think, is a bad omen.”
Lily thought about the bedtime tales. Many of them involved the inhabitants of one moon helping another. But was this just Ebb’s dream? Was he just making up fanciful stories of how things could be? Or was he telling tales of a past so long ago that no one remembered, a past known only through myths . . . and bedtime tales?
“But you must unite!” cried Lily.
“That’s your uncle talking,” said Ember, distracted by something she saw in the rubbings.
Lily stood, her eyes shining fiercely in the firelight. “You must! You must join together to fight Wrengfoul. You must defeat him and restore the Moon Realm to its proper order.”
“And what is its proper order, Lily?” asked Ember quickly. Lily had the sense that Ember was repeating a question she’d asked before, perhaps even debated. With Ebb? Her father? Her mother? It was a good question. What is the proper order? Lily felt an answer forming in her, but she could not articulate it. She hesitated.
Ember peered at Lily from the corner of her eye. “It’s not as easy as all that,” she said.
“Why? Why don’t you all just do it? It would be eight moons to one. How could you lose?”
Ember shook her head. “Because we don’t trust each other. The only alliance that exists among Dain and her moons is in your and your uncle’s heads—and perhaps as bits of myth, uttered long ago and remembered by few. Meanwhile, Wrengfoul is powerful. Having conquered Dain, he has set his sights on Barreth. Even as we speak, his scaramann are overrunning Sea Denn. Barreth has fallen under some foul darkness, and it will last no longer than we did.”
“That’s not true! Roan called down that darkness.”
“Roan?” Ember looked puzzled.
“And Greydor himself emptied Sea Denn to fight the scaramann while they cannot see.”
Ember considered this, but concluded, “It will not be enough. Wrengfoul will have planned for this possibility. He has foreseen every outcome, and he will win in the end. When he attacked Dain, Lily, he crushed us in a single day. I know. . . . I was there.”
“Yes, but you don’t believe Dain is truly lost, do you Ember?”
A small spark kindled in Ember’s eye, and she looked at Lily with interest. “Time will tell,” she mused. “Dain was once a beautiful land—and not so very long ago. She is smoldering now.
“There is goodness here yet,” she continued. “But what we need, Lily, is a hero. Someone to bring us together—someone to bring us hope. We must drain the fens—we must regain Perianth. We must find a way . . . to cure the dragons.”
The dragon! thought Lily, remembering how Tavin had heaped all the blame on himself for killing it. She considered telling Ember how things had actually happened: that the dragon had been on the attack, that Curse had taken hold of Tavin, that Curse had delivered the fatal blow. But then Lily remembered something else that had been puzzling her.
“Ember, I saw Andros burst into darkness.”
“Did you now,” said Ember with interest.
“Yes. And I heard Marred mention something about a ring. I thought the Dragondain couldn’t use magic.”
“The Dragondain can’t perform magic, but they can wield it. The ring Andros bears is one of the nine ambassadorial moon rings—Barreth’s, to be precise. But the shield he carries is far more powerful, or was. A frightening thing to behold when fully awakened, but it’s been sleepy of—”
“How did he get it? The ring, I mean.”
“That’s a story for him to tell, if he wishes it. In the meantime, you would do well not to mention it to anyone.”
The door opened, and Dubb hurried in, his eyes taking in the room in an instant.
“What’s the matter?” asked Ember.
“Tavin hasn’t come back?” he replied.
“I thought he was with you.”
“No. We split up. We have much to do,” Dubb explained.
He dismissed his worry. “But I’m sure he’s fine. I just . . . thought he woul
d be back by now.”
He motioned to the rubbings. “Are these what you were hoping for?”
“Yes,” said Ember, shifting her attention. “They may explain a few things.”
“Ah!” Dubb exclaimed. “I almost forgot.” He dug into a pocket, pulling forth a wad of oiled paper, tied with cord.
Ember peered at the paper wrappings suspiciously. “And what is this?”
“I don’t know. It was in a hidden room off Mingan’s bedchamber. Arric found the way in, but he was so drained, we had to carry him out. I actually thought he was going to leave us.”
Ember’s face showed her consternation. “He shouldn’t take risks like that. What could be worth such foolishness?” Pulling loose the string, she unfolded the paper and froze when she saw the small book inside.
“This is Balherk’s!” she gasped. “I knew that old wizard would have something special hidden away, but I never would have dreamed . . . did Arric find anything else?”
“No. But we were not the first to search that house. It had been torn apart. Dara took a good look around, but she was worried she might be missing something. And Arric was in no shape to hide the room again. Before we left, he made us burn the place to the ground.”
Though pained, Ember nodded. “I’m afraid that was best,” she agreed.
Dubb nodded at the book in her lap. “Maybe you can find something in there to repair Andros’s shield . . . if indeed Balherk was the one who forged it.”
“Dubb,” said Ember, as though remembering something. “Speaking of repair . . . I may have made a discovery concerning your sword.”
Dubb reached down to his belt and began to unbuckle his scabbard.
“No—not that one. The old one. I’d like to have a look at it when possible.”
Dubb straightened, his face unreadable.
“You could see it now, if you wished.”
“You mean it’s here?”
He nodded. “Can you think of a safer place? The stink of Tavin’s curse alone would keep any thief from even thinking of breaking in. But what’s your idea?”