Moonscript (Kings of Aselvia Book 1)

by H S J Williams

  “And if you don’t believe my story,” Tellie cried, “for that matter, I can hardly believe you! The elves were certain you died, so explain that!”

  “That’s simple,” he said with a snort. “My clothes drenched in blood and the gore of my comrades should have been convincing enough. No other body was left whole and recognizable so why should have mine been different?”

  She pretended she hadn’t asked and that he hadn’t told her.

  “But according to Tellie,” Kelm said doubtfully, “that was seventy years ago. Have you been kept here the entire time? What for?”

  “You mean they didn’t tell you?” he snipped.

  Taking a deep breath, Tellie tried to push back the hot anger rising in her chest. “Rendar told me some. The Darkness wanted vengeance against the celestial elves, yes?”

  “Fine, I can be fair. You might as well know what you’re after. Only those with Celestial light can read the Moonscript, and the Darkness believes that through that book he can reach the Higher World and destroy its people. There. Does that make any more sense?”

  “No,” said Kelm.

  “Yes!” Tellie cried. “That explains everything. You mean this entire time they have tried to bend you to their will, and it hasn’t worked? How brave of you!”

  She paused and considered her own words for a moment. How on earth did anyone survive seventy years of this kind of life anyway? Holding up the moon medallion, she peered through the bars in an effort to see some glimpse of him. The faintest impressions she saw suggested far too much. “How are you still alive?”

  “For knowing so much, you’re remarkably uninformed.”

  “Does it have do with your light? Casara said something about it making a person immortal.”

  He sighed. Heavily. It sounded too wet and strained. “It heals me. No one else. But I’m only alive because the Darkness wishes for me to be.”

  “Well, this is all splendid,” Kelm said. “But I have a question of my own now. Is this the privy bucket?”

  All the glorious thunder and excitement in Tellie’s head zipped into oblivion. “Kelm! What kind of question is that?”

  Errance sighed again. His chains rattled as he shifted, followed by the thunk of wood against stone. “Yes, it appears they gave us some. My. Somebody felt generous.”

  Tellie opened her mouth to ask what was so generous about that, but then she was gripped with the horror of reality. She’d never considered such a drawback of prison life.

  But Kelm wasn’t done. “Where do they dump it?”

  “I’ve been in this part of Tertorem no longer than you. These are far tamer cells than I’ve encountered. But I assume if they bothered with buckets, they empty them into some sewer drain nearby.”

  “Just how big are the sewer drains?”

  “Large? There are many cells here. Must have been for an overabundance of unimportant prisoners.”

  “Please just get to the point,” Tellie begged. “This is disgusting.”

  “I’m not being disgusting, I’m being smart,” Kelm shot back, wounded dignity in every syllable. “Errance, I wonder if it’s possible for people to escape this place by traveling through the sewer passages.”

  Utter silence.

  I wonder if it’s possible to throw up on an empty stomach, Tellie thought. Her limber imagination conjured up various images at Kelm’s words. Her tongue lumped up several times before she gagged, “Kelm, that is the awfulest thing you’ve ever come up with and that is so…so…so very like a boy!”

  “Shut up,” Errance said.

  Her mouth dropped open, and she wheeled around towards the elf, churning stomach forgotten in her outrage. Shut up? He, an elf, had told her to… Disheartened, she scooted back against the wall.

  “No,” Errance said after a moment of consideration. “It would not work. The Darkness would have thought to block off such an escape.”

  “But why would he?” Kelm protested. “He’s not physical and doesn’t have to worry about such…er…things.”

  Wonderful tact, Tellie thought in disgust. But an uncomfortable feeling began to steal across her mind, a horrible, prickling voice saying that Kelm might be right.

  “You do not understand. You cannot get out. The only way in is by the Darkness that brought you here. Even if you found a way physically possible, his will would bar your escape.”

  “Oh come,” the boy said. “He can’t be everywhere at once. And if he isn’t paying attention to the sewers, why would that be barred?”

  “You are a little fool. But do as you wish, your kind always does.”

  “About that,” Kelm said. “It will be necessary to have the keys, and I’m not, well, I’m not quite certain I could heist them off the guard. I mean, I could have a go, but…” His voice faded away in hopeful suggestion, but he received no reply.

  The door far down the passage opened and slammed again. Tellie straightened in alarm. “Just how often do they come down here?”

  Errance drew in a long breath. “Either I’ve been summoned or these guards think themselves bold. Just be quiet. I’ll take care of it if they try anything.”

  Tellie slid over to her corner next to Kelm, and tucked her hand into her pocket, drawing comfort from the smooth, unsullied surface of the medallion.

  “What is it this time?” Errance asked when the guard entered his cell. His voice was a sheathed knife just waiting to be drawn.

  “Orders of the Voice,” was the only thing the man said, but it was enough. Errance gave no protest as the guard unsnapped the shackles and pulled him to his feet.

  Tellie shot up. “Leave him be, he’s still hurt!” The words echoed back unheeded, sounding silly even in her own ears. She could only watch, sorry and helpless, as the prince was stolen away again. At the sound of the closing door, she sank back to the floor. She wouldn’t cry, she told herself. Crying never helped anything, it just gave headaches.

  “Kelm,” she whispered. “Are you certain the sewers would work?”

  His voice sounded small and frightened. “I read a book where it did. It’s our best chance, I think.”

  “How do you know it will lead a way out and not just go forever into the ground? What about the men who built it, why did they not escape?”

  “They were probably killed,” Kelm said glumly. “I heard of a king who killed all the workers who built his temple just so they couldn’t build another like it.”

  She swallowed hard, leaning back and contemplating the idea of traveling deeper and deeper into the earth, only for there to be no way out but back to this dungeon. Yet worse still was the thought of the elven prince captive here a day longer.

  “We must try it then,” she said.

  oOo

  One could hardly believe how swiftly the world fell to pieces.

  Leoren ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his ragged heart with a long breath. His first task upon the king’s death, and he’d already failed. They’d lost the girl…she’d vanished before their very eyes, leaving only dark markings upon the ground in her place. And they’d had no idea how to find her. In the end, there was no choice but to return to Aselvia, there to lay Rendar’s body to rest and to plan some way to track the poor girl’s whereabouts.

  Usually, when he came back to Aselvia from the world beyond, the peace of his surroundings would soothe the stress lining his face. The serene birdsongs, the floral scents, the comfort of his own chair. But not this time.

  This…Tellie…this orphan girl who needed help. And he had thought that he could help her…give her a chance like others had taken a chance on him—a half-breed. He paused, surprised. It had been a while since his mind had flung that accusation at him, so what brought it up now?

  I know you have always struggled to value your place in this world. The girl is the same. So take care of her.

  His fingers fisted into his hair. What kind of horrible fate had they lost her to? She was innocent, she’d trusted them, and then this—? He’d see
n Darkness in those men’s shadows, but he hadn’t expected this level of power. They weren’t mere thugs—they were directly working for the Darkness himself.

  That made these men their only real lead. His best chance was to return to Dormandy and seek knowledge of their identities. Ask for stories of similar occurrences.

  Similar occurrences. Ha.

  That forest was cursed to steal young, beautiful life.

  But he’d find her. He had to.

  In the meantime, they would have to bury Rendar without him. That was hard to swallow, but it was the only option. The entire kingdom was reeling in shock of their king’s death, but already a grave was being carefully dug next to their fair queen beneath her tree. Every elf would gather there in the Forest of Souls and light a candle in the night to remember and mourn.

  A rap at the door startled his misery, and a tall elf woman in armor stepped inside. “I have selected soldiers for the search force, my lord,” she said. “We are ready to depart on your command.”

  “Thank you, Commander Maril,” Leoren sighed. He picked up his cloak and a piece of paper fluttered from one of its pockets to the ground. Oh. Rendar’s letter. He’d quite forgotten it in the wake of his death and the orphan girl’s disappearance.

  Hope suddenly tugged in his heart. Rendar had said it would hold a sort of explanation, had he not? Perhaps this would provide some clue to this mess. Rendar was no seer of the future, but he’d always seemed to know more than the rest of them. He broke the seal and tore it open, eyes darting over the words.

  The letter dropped from his hands, all strength suddenly gone.

  “My lord!” Maril jumped forward, catching his fall and guiding him onto a seat.

  He felt as pale as he surely looked. “It can’t be,” he whispered. “Why would he have waited till now to tell us?”

  “What is it, what does it say?” Maril demanded. She was a fierce woman who could not be ignored, so he fluttered a hand toward the paper as a response.

  She snatched it up and read aloud. Warrior or not, he was still impressed she could read it with only the slightest shake in her voice.

  “My dear Leoren and Casara,

  You have always been my greatest support in these troubled years. You share and know my grief, but…I have not been truthful with the full of it. I have held my tongue, because until now there was nothing more that could be done. So I have kept it as my burden. Until now. The time has come now for a chance. The chance to save his life.

  Errance is alive.

  The Darkness stole him to Tertorem. He has been lost to shadow we could not penetrate in physical force. But it has been revealed to me that this girl, this Tellie, will find him somehow. It is not for me to know the whole of it, but Ayeshune has promised that he will be given help from her and many more. So you must be prepared.

  Forgive me. Forgive me for keeping this from all of you. It is a secret that has driven me to my grave, but I shall not bury it there with me. Help my son. If we miss this chance, there is no saying what doom it could bring.”

  Maril lowered the letter, the paper crinkling in her white-knuckled grip. “Dear God,” she said softly.

  “Is it madness?” Leoren asked fearfully. It was the easiest answer. And yet it hadn’t been written like a man gone out of his mind. It was too terrible, too wonderful…and if it was true…then everything had changed.

  “Tertorem,” he rasped. “Our attack on Tertorem after Errance’s death…Rendar called it a quest of justice, but do you think it could be that he was trying to get Errance back? All those months, and we never breached those mountains. I can’t see Rendar giving up, but—” A chill ran down his spine as he recalled the king’s fading health over the years since. Perhaps he hadn’t given up, not quite.

  “If that’s where you think he is and where they took the girl, then what is to be done?” Maril said savagely. “Our efforts to cross those mountains were in vain!”

  “I know,” Leoren said, his head sinking into his hands. “But. We have to go back. Perhaps something has changed. Rendar seemed to hold a great deal of faith in this girl. Perhaps it will be different this time. If Errance is alive….”

  May the Lord have mercy. If their poor boy was alive, he’d be ruined. Even if they got him back, would they really? He’d surely be changed beyond all recall. But it didn’t matter.

  “We have to save him. We have to save them both.”

  9

  oOo

  I don’t know why I insist on lying to myself. Maybe because I think if I say it enough, it will become true. But there is no use in pretending otherwise. I am afraid.

  It could have been hours later when Errance at last returned. His muffled groan at the guard’s rough hassling sent a sword through Tellie’s heart, but she remained silent until the guard left and all had gone dark again.

  “So Errance,” Kelm called. “The next time the guard comes, do you think you can knock him out and get the keys? I mean, we’ve got to try to escape at least, you can’t keep living this way!”

  It wasn’t living, Tellie thought. It was some horrid state of eternal death. As she listened to the prince’s torn breaths and smelt the acidic burns, more morbid memories began to pool with the fever and the slaughterhouse—the sound of a mouse’s delicate little bones snapping between a cat’s jaws, the open carcass of a dog she’d found in an alley. Each terrible sight and sound replayed over and over in her mind, the details reddening and blurring, then reshaping to become the prince instead. She whimpered, cradling her head in her hands.

  When Errance did not answer, Kelm glumly retreated into silence, and so they all three remained, in darkness and descending despair.

  The prison door banged open. Never mind that this was the third time she’d heard the sound, Tellie jolted upright from sleep with a breathless cry. She blinked hard, wondering briefly why it was so dark.

  Tertorem. The Voice. Errance. Each remembrance hit her like a punch to the stomach.

  But she had precious little time to process everything, for a guard came into view and hung his torch in the bracket on the wall.

  Errance shifted, groaning softy, “How much more….?”

  She wasn’t sure if he realized he’d spoken aloud or if he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone, but the exhaustion of his voice wilted her spirit. That it was then. He would not fight the guard for the keys—he could not. It was foolish to hope he’d help them when he could not even help himself. They would take him away, and if they returned him, he would be closer to death than before.

  The guard threw Errance out of the cell, leaving the elf to find his own balance, before turning back to wrench the key from the lock.

  Errance’s transformation was so silent, so sudden, that she almost didn’t see what happened. One moment, he swayed in spent dejection and the next his body was a reaper’s shade sweeping in upon its prey. The guard’s arms flailed in panic as Errance’s hands wrapped around his mouth, and they both staggered back into the darkness, silhouettes swallowed up in the shadows.

  All her skin tingled as the silence was broken by a sharp crack. No…no, DON’T, she told herself as her mind jumped to the possibilities of the reason for the sound.

  Errance stepped back out of the shadows, and she wasn’t sure if the twist of her stomach came from the relief of seeing him again or discomfort that the guard did not reappear.

  She scrambled to her feet and wrapped her hands around the bars, knowing with sickening certainty that this moment would decide whether he unlocked their cells or left them behind. But yes…yes, he came, and the key turned in the lock with a beautiful metal click. She leapt out before he could change his mind. As she waited for him to release Kelm, she peered into the lurking dark, fearing that the guard would emerge even while knowing he would not.

  In the pale light, Kelm looked particularly ghastly, and she didn’t want to dwell long on her own appearance. As for Errance, she refused to see what sort of damage had been wreaked, so she kept her hea
d slightly ducked and eyes averted. “How much time do we have before they realize you’re not coming?” she asked.

  “Not much,” Errance muttered grimly.

  “I suppose,” Kelm said, voice floating in the darkness, “that we could have waited until they brought you back.”

  Errance rasped a disagreeing chuckle and started down the long hallway opposite the door. The darkness became an unexpected ally, cloaking their flight. But all too quickly it became a bane as they hit the far wall and began to desperately search for any sign of a sewage hatch at the side or the floor.

  Tellie’s arms shivered as she smoothed her palm across the slick stone. The arch of a handle bumped under her fingers. “Here,” she whispered.

  Errance knelt alongside, testing the door. “Locked,” he hissed. “Someone did not completely overlook its potential.”

  “Will the keys—” Kelm began, but he was answered by the grating turn of the bolt.

  All three let out deep breaths of relief and all three of those breaths were cut short when the door lifted. The most insidious of smells that had ever assaulted Tellie’s nose was nothing compared to the reek that billowed out of the hole in the floor. Both children coughed, gagged, and stumbled backwards.

  “Is there a way to retract my wonderful idea?” Kelm asked in a squeak.

  Errance did not answer, did not cringe away. He hunkered at the pit’s mouth, unafraid of the smell or the plunge. He took a deep breath, grabbed the edge, and swung down.

  Warnings of ‘it might be too far down,’ stuck too late in Tellie’s throat, and in her silence she could only listen to the gentle sound of his grip slip from the stone and the soft following fall.

  A subtle splash.

  Then Errance’s voice, muted and distant. “Come on.”

  “You go first,” Kelm said, breath rattling between his teeth.

  “Golly, thanks,” she muttered. She sat and lowered her legs into the hole, but there she froze. The darkness waited below like a predator, and here she was about to drop into its open throat.