Shiver the Moon

by Phillip M Locey

  He couldn’t tell how long he was suspended upside-down, his head dangling over the swiftly passing ground, but thankfully his foot finally came free and he toppled onto the grassy earth. He landed facedown and remained motionless, wishing the ringing in his head and the throbbing of his leg would both quiet. The image of Tikvi being struck down caused him to weep, wetting the grass with stores of pent-up tears, until the overwhelming sensations closed off his consciousness.

  It was a dreamless state, though, and he returned to the sound of steel against wood. While alarmingly close, it was better than not being able to hear at all. Jaiden used his arms to push his chest up and lift his face out of the grass, but his leg prevented him from moving further. Just lying still was agony.

  Through tear-blurred eyes he spotted Saffron, a whirling red cyclone, her dark ponytail whipping behind her like a slaver’s lash. The dark-armored soldier fighting her hesitated, then slashed, his blade striking shield where her body had been a flash before. Saffron, with the grace of the wind, brought her right foot down, pivoting on it to halt her spin, and redirected into a forward thrust of her spear. The attack caught her hapless opponent off balance, and the meticulously sharpened tip of her implement did its work, piercing the unprotected space between his ribs. He slumped to the ground as she withdrew her weapon.

  Saffron looked over her shoulder uneasily before springing to where Jaiden was lying. “Good, you’re alive. Amurel will be relieved.” She dropped her spear and knelt on the thick, matted grass beside him. “Any new wounds?” she asked while looking him over. Though spatters of blood tainted his white tabard, it was free of any deep red stains indicating mortal injury.

  “I don’t know. My leg?” Jaiden was so consumed by it he wouldn’t have been able to feel anything else, regardless. Unwilling to look himself, he watched for Saffron’s reaction as she moved her gaze downward. With her veil covering the lower half of her face, only her eyes spoke – yet they were foreign, and he couldn’t decipher their message.

  “We’ve got to get out of here before we’re noticed.” She picked up her spear, stood, and added “wait here,” before striding a dozen paces to where her horse chomped on the long grass. Jaiden could do nothing but wait, though he saw another horse, draped in black, standing with its head bowed beside Saffron’s.

  After securing her weapon and shield to her saddle, Saffron returned bearing a long, leather cord. “This will hurt, but likely no more than what you are already feeling. We need to turn you over.” She crouched beside him once more, this time at his hip. She grasped his leg with both hands, one at his calf, the other mid-thigh. “Roll toward me, Jaiden. Push with your hands.” Her voice was urgent and more firm than usual, and he did as told.

  New jolts of agony surged as the pressure shifted on his leg, but within seconds he was settled on his back. Jaiden’s face flushed with sweat, and he concentrated on breathing to try and block the pain and urge to vomit, while Saffron bound his leg with cord. Gathering his courage, he crept onto his elbows to watch her work and survey the damage. The lower two thirds of his leg bent at an impossible angle as Saffron lifted it to work the leather strap around.

  “It broke again; my guess is all the way through. Not much is holding it together, Jaiden. I don’t see how you can keep it, but this should hold your leg in place for now, if you stay completely off it. Perhaps a surgeon can do something.”

  Saffron tied off her knot and hastily wound the other end of the cord around Jaiden’s upper leg. He had no words, his jaw clenched to help suffer her ministrations, but silently vowed not to relinquish his leg.

  “You’ll need to ride with me,” Saffron said as she finished. Draping Jaiden’s right arm over her shoulder, she struggled to raise him off the ground. He used his left leg as best he could to help, but still felt disoriented. She let out a shrill whistle once they were standing, to which her horse lifted its head. It looked at her, shook its mane, and slowly paced over. “Good girl. Now down, Sheen, down.”

  The animal whinnied but obeyed, kneeling first on its front legs, then lowering its hind ones as well.

  “Good girl, are you up for two today?” She helped Jaiden straddle the saddle, though he felt like he could slip from consciousness at any moment. “Up, girl, up.”

  With some effort, the mare lifted itself onto its legs, Jaiden grasping its neck to keep balance. He happened to look north and saw the road, perhaps a half-mile away, crowded with black figures.

  “It is as Palomar warned; their squadron of foot soldiers has caught up. We’ll have to find a way around.” Saffron stalked the horse in black, whispering reassuringly until close enough to grab its reins. She led it to her own mare, withdrew a length of rope from her saddlebags, and quickly tied a line between the enemy horse’s reins and the horn of her saddle. “Hopefully they have no intention of following us, but I wouldn’t be surprised otherwise.”

  Saffron put her foot in the stirrup and gracefully hoisted into the saddle behind Jaiden. Reaching around him, she took the reins and commanded, “Go, Sheen.” The horse walked slowly, carefully at first, adjusting to the weight of a second rider. The ground was uneven and obscured by the thick, verdant grass, further justifying caution.

  With the sun arcing downward they headed southwest, both to put distance between themselves and the Chelpian army, and to backtrack. After an hour of no visible pursuit they cut back north toward the road. Saffron spoke little – Jaiden, not at all. He was sweating profusely and tried to empty his mind, numbing the pain by distancing his consciousness.

  “There is a collection of caves within the hills that abut the eastern face of that mountain range. Amurel has shown it to me, and he holds it a sacred place. That’s where he aims to lead his men, if they are able to elude the enemy. Before I left to find you, he told me the road to Halidor Keep was blocked by the King-priest. We shall all have to travel more secretive paths to reach our destination. It will not be easy.”

  Jaiden heard, but gave no response. Those concerns were beyond him as he struggled just to keep from falling off horseback. He was dreadfully thirsty, but his mouth felt so dry he found it difficult to ask for water.

  “Looks like we are being followed, after all.” There was no concern in Saffron’s voice, however, and she nudged Sheen into a quarter turn so Jaiden could see with his own eyes. Inferno stubbornly kept his distance, but trailed them nonetheless.

  Jaiden gave a weak snort of a laugh, though he wasn’t sure why he found it funny. “How much further?” he was finally able to ask, after circling his tongue around his mouth to moisten it.

  “We’ve got a few more hours until sundown. We’re almost to the Harpy Pass. I’d like to cross it, find the back way to the Moonlight Stairway, and gain some elevation before bedding down. I’ll have to lead on foot once we start climbing, so it will be slow-going.”

  She pressed on, and he resigned himself to enduring. The dirt of the wide trail they had ridden along that morning was churned loose by the passage of so many, and puffs of dust rose with the horses’ steps, further drying Jaiden’s nose and mouth. No longer able to swallow, he finally pleaded for water.

  “Of course,” Saffron sympathized as she dismounted, “my apologies.” She dug a canteen from her saddlebags, took a short swig, and offered it to Jaiden. “Drink as you like; there are many streams in these mountains. Now, let’s have a look at that leg.” She walked to the right side of her steed, where Jaiden felt her hands lightly upon him. She was delicate, and caused no more pain. “Good, the cords are holding. I know it hurts, but I won’t be able to do anything more until we stop for the night. You can hold on, yes?”

  Jaiden wasn’t sure he could, but nodded anyway.

  “Sheen needs to rest as well, so I’m going to leave you two here and take the other horse to look for the path. It shouldn’t be too far, if I remember correctly. See those blossoms on the ridge?”

  He tilted his head upward and saw, forty paces east along the top of a gentle slope, a sprin
kling of frosted violet.

  “Periwinkle,” she continued. “I noticed them as we passed, and moments later Amurel pointed out a goat path leading to the Moonlight Stairway. I shall return anon.” Saffron took the canteen from Jaiden and replaced it in the pack. She patted her steed’s nose. “Stay Sheen, I need you to take care of him.” Without another word she slipped her spear from its harness, mounted the black-cloaked horse, and headed east down the trail.

  Thankful for the momentary stillness and quiet, Jaiden leaned against the horse’s neck and closed his eyes. With surprising quickness, he descended into an uneasy slumber.

  Chapter 12

  Giving In

  W hen Jaiden awoke he was lying on a saddle blanket on the ground and the first stars were showing themselves. A small fire crackled nearby, centered within a cozy, wind-carved grotto on a rocky hillside. The smell of cooking meat had roused him, and craning his neck, he saw Saffron kneeling over the flame, adjusting the position of a spitted hare. Her hair was unwound and her veil nowhere to be seen. He shifted ever so slightly, wincing as pain shot up from his leg, earning Saffron’s notice.

  “It wasn’t easy moving you around,” she said, without looking up from her task. “But you never woke, so I deem your sleep was important. We crossed a stream a ways back, so I watered the animals and refilled our canteens – I found yours with your horse, who caught up while we stopped.”

  Jaiden looked around their campsite. All three horses, Inferno among them, had been unpacked and tethered with rope to her spear, which was wedged horizontally between uneven surfaces in the rock face. Saffron had snared a rabbit, built a fire, and set up a place for him to sleep – though he saw no other blankets laid out. “You did all this?” he asked, genuinely impressed.

  “It is surprising what a woman can accomplish when men are not trying so hard to get in the way.”

  “I, I didn’t mean…thank you for coming to find me. I didn’t think I would make it through the day. I’m famished – is that hare almost cooked?”

  Saffron laughed. She finally looked up at him, eyes smiling, face lit by the glow of the fire. She was certainly beautiful, but he couldn’t even describe why. Something about her darker complexion, her smoky irises, and the roundness of her nose and cheeks enticed him. She looked so different from the girls he knew growing up.

  “And there I thought we were about to share a sincere moment. Yes, Jaiden, the food should be ready.” She used the hem of her long skirt, edged with golden cloth, to remove the hot spit from the fire. She winced as the heat became too much, and let it drop onto the tin plate she’d set out.

  “You certainly do come prepared,” he said, raising an eyebrow at the dishware.

  “Unlike these Knights of the Order,” she quipped, “I believe in complete self-reliance, and don’t count on the serving cart being nearby when I need something. You, for one, should be thankful for it.”

  “Oh, I am – don’t get me wrong. I am completely, without a doubt, thankful.”

  “Indeed,” she responded, incredulously. She drew a dagger from the sheath at her waist and sliced bits of meat from the bones. When she finished, she brought the plate and a canteen closer, set them beside Jaiden, and sat cross-legged opposite him. “Eat.” It sounded like an order.

  Trying to be polite, Jaiden waited until she had selected a piece of meat for herself before taking any. Once in hand, however, he quickly tore into the cooked flesh, finding it tender, juicy, and flavorful. “This is terrific,” he said, mouth still full. “What is it I’m tasting – other than the rabbit? I can’t quite place it.”

  Saffron waited until she’d swallowed to answer. “It’s lemongrass. It grows in the warmer parts of Chelpa. Baron Rogan picked some before we left, and told me how to prepare it for cooking.”

  “Ugh.” Jaiden couldn’t contain his disgust.

  “What? I thought you said you liked it.”

  “I love the dinner, Saffron. It’s just I have had enough of this Baron Rogan.” He cut her off before she could say it first, “I know. I really ought to meet him.”

  Saffron didn’t say a word, but a smile crept across her face. She tried to hide it by lifting another slice of the cooked rabbit to her lips, though she paused to savor and swallow before taking another bite.

  Jaiden sighed. “So, what is it about this Baron fellow? Do you like him because he’s wealthy?”

  Saffron coughed, nearly choking on her food. “Who said I liked him?”

  “Oh, you don’t like him? Well, we have that in common, because I don’t think I like him either. Who knows what other interests we might share?”

  Saffron narrowed her eyes and shook her head. Jaiden groaned and finished his meal. Between their silences, the occasional crackle of the fire reminded them of its presence, though it did not bar the growing chill in the air as evening melted into night. When they both had their fill, Saffron tossed the remains into the fire. The last thing they needed was the smell of a carcass luring scavengers.

  While she put away and rearranged her supplies, Jaiden took a long swig from his canteen and stared at his leg, still bound by the cord Saffron wrapped around it. Though the blood staining his pants had dried, the gnawing of the wound was constant. He knew it had broken again, and at best would be starting over in the healing process. Deep down a seed of fear had taken root, however. Unlike the first time, his defiance was being subdued by a new awareness – the realization that his leg was dying. He hoped it wasn’t true, but believed it was.

  “What do you think happens when you die?” Jaiden stared into the fire, relaxing his eyes until they lost focus, detaching from his pain, mesmerized by the dance of the flame. “My father told me men have an immortal soul, and that your actions while you live determine where it goes afterward. Brave men’s souls go to the Warrior’s Hall, the wicked to the Lake of Fire, the cruel to the Abyss.”

  Her cooking implements packed, Saffron took up a fleece mantle and her lyre before returning to sit by the fire. “And what if you are none of these things?” She draped the fleece over her shoulders and nestled the lyre in her lap while she listened.

  “Then your soul goes to the Grey Wastes of Limbo, or so he said.”

  “Do you believe your father’s words?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem fair. What if you hadn’t yet become what you were meant to be?”

  “Ah,” Saffron tilted her head downward and struck a series of notes on her lyre. “Deshiri hujat ib Yunë castilah. Sun hallih shezat ya fhallan,” she sang.

  Jaiden’s confusion drew his eyes from the fire. He’d never heard Saffron speak Begnari before.

  “Destiny flows from the mouth of Yunë. We are all prisoners of her words,” she translated. “It is from a song of my homeland.”

  “It’s beautiful.” It occurred to Jaiden for the first time Saffron may be homesick, but he didn’t ask. “I saw a boy I knew, Tikvi, killed today during the fighting. He was brave; I saw him pick up a weapon while the man beside him cowered. But he was just a boy.” Jaiden’s eyes moved from Saffron back to the fire. “I don’t want to end up in Limbo.”

  The crackle of the fire punctuated the heavy silence that followed, until finally Saffron responded. “The tradition of my people states we are all bound to the elements. They make up everything: the sand, the sky, our horses – every one of us. Our spirits return to the elements as jewels when we die. Diamonds from the earth, pearls from the sea, the stars from air and fire.”

  “Do you believe that is what happens?” Jaiden had never heard such a thing.

  Saffron smiled. “I think they are stories, Jaiden. But every story holds at least a bit of truth.”

  He was not sure what to make of her answer. He knew he didn’t understand this woman, yet wanted to bathe in her voice. “I hope Tikvi ends up on Mount Celestia. That’s where Palomar said he was from.” He shrugged. “It can’t be too bad if it’s full of Aasimar, I suppose. Will you play me something on your lyre?” It was time t
o change the subject. He could feel his throat tightening and his eyes begin to sting.

  On the heels of his words an icy wind whipped through the hollow and nearly extinguished the fire before fleeing. “Perhaps something to warm our blood?” Unlike Saffron, he had no additional clothing for warmth. It was all packed away in one of the wagons, and he hadn’t planned on cutting a path through these high hills.

  “I will play something in remembrance of your young friend.” Saffron lifted her lyre upright and plucked at its fine strings. The dexterity of her fingers amazed Jaiden, reminding him of the way she danced in battle. When her haunting voice joined the melody, he couldn’t help shutting his eyes, awash in emotion.

  She sang in Begnari, but the mood of the words translated well enough. The song was simultaneously sad and hopeful; slow, deep sounds from Saffron’s voice, sparsely punctuated by higher tones of the lyre. Unbidden tears escaped down Jaiden’s cheeks as he mourned all at once the loss of Tikvi, his father, and his future as a soldier.

  His eyes opened to capture Saffron’s for a moment, but hers lowered quickly. He knew she must have caught the wetness on his skin, glistening in the firelight, but she ignored it and kept singing. It was the first time in his life he could remember crying and not caring that someone saw. As he gave in, the tears came faster, overflowing as if a dam holding back his sorrow had finally collapsed. At last Saffron’s voice hummed to a quiet stop, her last pluck of the strings lingering in the rock depression like a shadow refusing to leave when the candle is put to bed.

  The sky had fallen dark and a multitude of stars sparkled overhead. Jaiden turned from the fire and lay on his back, searching the constellations for something familiar. From the corner of his eye, he saw Saffron stand and head toward the horses, no doubt to pack away her lyre. He took the opportunity to wipe the wetness from his face.

  “That’s a beautiful instrument.” Jaiden coughed to clear his throat. “Did you bring it from home?”