Crystal Moon

by Elysa Hendricks

  upward as far as a woman afoot could travel in a day. If I don’t

  find her, I’ll turn back and meet you along the trails.”

  Common sense suggested Sianna would head down the

  mountain. Few people ventured higher into the Azul Mountains,

  and even fewer returned. Danger lurked around each bend for

  the careless or unwary. Death hid in the sharp claws of a hungry

  sardak, a fall of loose rock, a misstep over a steep cliff. With

  each thought, he whispered a prayer for Sianna’s safety. Still,

  something urged him toward the craggy peaks. He remembered

  well her fascination with his stories of the mythical Andacor.

  Katya nodded and stepped back. “Take care. And find her.”

  Calling on childhood memories of his mother’s tales and

  his own adventuresome nature, Kyne guided Hakan up the little

  used path. As though he knew what was at stake should he

  hesitate, Hakan sprang forward.

  Hours passed, and the storm intensified. The wind howled

  around Kyne, turning the gentle fall of snow into a swirling

  gale. He squinted against the sting of icy pellets and watched

  the trail for sign of Sianna’s passage. The higher he climbed

  the thicker the downfall. Drifts soon slowed them to a walk.

  The steep trail exposed them to the raging elements. Eyes

  slitted, Kyne hunched forward over Hakan’s neck. Moisture

  froze on his cheeks. His fingers grew numb. The quinar’s rear

  hooves slid off the ice-crusted trail. For a moment he floundered

  on the edge of oblivion, then with a mighty surge he staggered

  forward. Sides heaving, Hakan lowered his head and stood

  trembling.

  His own heart racing, after a moment Kyne nudged the

  beast into the leeward side of a large boulder. Until the storm

  broke they could travel no further. He could only pray that

  Sianna too had sought shelter.

  As he dismounted, the faint scent of wood smoke teased

  his nose. His foot disturbed the remains of a fire. He knelt.

  Smothered by snow, green wood still smoldered, but cast no

  heat or light. Sianna had been here. Where was she now? Kyne

  looked up.

  A few feet away, huddled against the boulder was a small,

  snow-covered mound. Heart pounding, he reached out and

  brushed away the white blanket. In the snow lit darkness, he

  could just make out the brown of a travel cloak. Frightened by

  what he might find below, he lifted the edge.

  Dark, sleepy eyes blinked up at him.

  “Zoa?” In a glance he took in the child, wrapped in Sianna’s

  his cloak. But where was Sianna?

  “Father. You came. I told Sianna you’d come.” Zoa’s thin

  arms reached out for him.

  Kyne shook the snow off the cloak and rewrapped her in

  it. “Where is Sianna?” Fear tightened his vocal cords.

  Zoa yawned and snuggled into his embrace. “We heard

  voices. Singing. She followed them. I’m hungry. Can we go

  home now?”

  “How long ago? Zoa? How long?”

  Her small head flopped against his shoulder, and her eyes

  fell shut. Asleep, she didn’t answer.

  He eased the child back into the shelter of the boulder and

  stood. Hours or minutes, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t track her.

  No footprints marred the smooth expanse of snow. Even his

  and Hakan’s footprints were filling rapidly.

  Wind whistling through the rocks could resemble muted

  voices singing in the distance. Befuddled by cold, dressed in

  naught but her tunic, did she search for a chimera of sound?

  He turned in circles. Which way had she gone? He had to

  find her? But how? And what of Zoa? He couldn’t leave her

  alone. Nor could he drag her further into the storm.

  “Sianna! Where are you? Come back!” The wind snatched

  his words and whirled them back at him, but gave no answer.

  Like twin beasts of prey, guilt and grief clawed his heart.

  Because of him Sianna would die on this mountain. He lifted

  his head and howled his anguish.

  Seventeen

  While the storm continued to rage, Zoa slept, curled warm

  and lax in Kyne’s lap. He found no such escape. Sorrow

  haunted his dreams. Guilt devoured his heart.

  Sianna was out there somewhere. Alive? Dead? Either

  way, he vowed to find her, but duty demanded he first see Zoa

  safely returned to the castle.

  The storm cleared, and the sun inched up into a placid blue

  sky to glint off a blanket of white. Sparkling like silver crystal in

  the early morning light, rivulets of melting snow streamed down

  the trail. The tinkle of water coursing over rock provided a

  soothing sound that didn’t touch Kyne’s pain.

  He eased Zoa from his lap and stood, preparing to return

  her to the castle then continue his search for Sianna. The child

  slept on.

  A few steps away, a mound of white gave a mighty heave

  upward and shook. Snow flew. Through the storm, the quinar’s

  bulk had provided a living barricade against the cutting wind.

  Now he snorted and stamped his feet. Clumps of snow clung

  to his furry hide.

  The deep baying howl of a hound pierced the tranquility.

  Warda! Kyne recognized the beast’s voice.

  “Rauk!” Hakan rasped in answer.

  Kyne stepped out onto the trail as the clatter of hooves

  against rock echoed in the quiet. Led by Warda, two riders

  approached. Katya and Graham. The quinars’ sweat-lathered

  coats steamed in the cold.

  “Rul Cathor!”

  “Kyne!”

  Graham and Katya shouted together.

  Graham sat his quinar awkwardly, his splinted legs sticking

  straight down and slightly outward. Deep lines of pain bracketed

  his mouth and, despite the crisp mountain air, sweat beaded his

  pale skin. Katya rode just behind, her gaze darting from Graham

  to Kyne then back.

  Warda raced ahead. He halted at Kyne’s side, snuffed at

  Zoa, then head down, he crisscrossed the ground around the

  boulder. Catching a scent, he gave an anxious whine and dashed

  away, only to pause head up, as if waiting for Kyne to follow.

  Hope flickered in Kyne. Would Warda respond so if he

  smelled death? Kyne wasted no time. As Graham and Katya

  rode up, he leapt into Hakan’s saddle. “Katya, take Zoa home.

  And this crazy man as well.” He turned toward Graham. “Sianna

  will tear a strip from your hide for your foolishness.” If she

  survived her own.

  “I’m fine.” Graham gripped his saddle with white-knuckled

  fingers and looked around. “Where is she?”

  “She wandered off in the storm before I arrived.”

  Katya’s gasp of dismay reflected Kyne’s own fears. She

  slid from Deju’s back and picked up Zoa. He chafed against

  this small delay.

  “Want Sianna.” Zoa muttered a sleepy protest.

  Sianna’s name came out sounding like mama. Kyne’s heart

  lurched at the thought of a babe, his babe, in Sianna’s arms.

  Had his quest for vengeance driven her to her death?

  Katya handed Zoa to Graham and strode over to Kyne.

  �
��What of Prince Timon’s command? Clearly Sianna carries

  Aubin’s child. Why else would she flee into the night?” Katya’s

  tone and look conveyed her contempt for his actions and its

  consequences. “She cannot marry the prince. Nor is it safe for

  her to return to Castle Vareck. The prince’s messenger leaked

  word of Sianna’s parentage. Though she has friends who rise

  to her defense, tempers run hot over her deception. What will

  you do?”

  “I will find her.” A sudden surety came over him. With

  every breath he took, he felt Sianna’s living presence, her heart

  beating in time with his.

  “And then?” Graham asked. “You have nine days until

  DiSanti carries out his threat to kill the queen and princess.

  Dramon hovers on the brink of civil war. DiSanti will push the

  country into chaos with his madness.”

  “Let him,” Katya shouted. “You can’t sacrifice Sianna or

  Aubin’s child to his lust for power.”

  “But....”

  Kyne stopped Graham’s objection. “Katya is right. Sianna’s

  pregnancy changes everything. Her death on the spike would

  throw the country into turmoil as surely as the deaths of the

  queen and princess. There’s naught we can do to prevent war.

  Go back to Castle Vareck and send messages to the rebel

  leaders to prepare. When I find Sianna, I will return and join

  the battle.”

  “What do we tell Prince Timon?”

  Graham’s quiet question nearly shattered Kyne’s resolve.

  He knew well the pain of losing one’s family. How could he

  stand by and do nothing to save Timon’s? His own queen and

  princess? Yet what could he do?

  Kyne met Graham’s gaze. “I hope you are better than you

  look, my friend. I need your help.”

  Graham’s back straightened. “I am well enough to ride. I

  can do whatever you require.”

  “And I, what he cannot,” Katya added.

  “Good. Take a small troop of men and infiltrate DiSanti’s

  siege. Seek out his weaknesses. Find where he holds the queen

  and princess.” With growing impatience to be off, Kyne relayed

  the rest of his hasty plan. “Go. I’ll see you in nine days.”

  He turned Hakan and started up the trail. Warda trotted

  alongside. For an hour they pushed upward through melting

  drifts of snow. Then he saw her.

  Like warmed wine, relief flowed through Kyne’s frozen

  veins. Body poised, arms outstretched as if to embrace an

  approaching lover, Sianna stood at the edge of a cliff, her slender

  body outlined against the sky. Snow dusted her dark hair and

  dampened her tunic until it clung like a second skin, but she

  was oblivious to the cold, her gaze focused inward. One step,

  and she would tumble into a vast chasm.

  “Sianna.” She gave no indication she heard him.

  Warda started toward her.

  “Warda. No.” The hound stopped and gave a reluctant

  whine. Kyne dismounted. Beneath his feet the snow-covered

  ground groaned. Hakan snorted in fear. Kyne dropped the reins,

  and the quinar shuffled backward. Step by cautious step, Kyne

  crept closer until an arm’s length separated them. “Sianna?”

  She turned her head to him and smiled, her gaze still

  unfocused. Her eyelids fell shut, then rose again in a languid

  motion. Moisture spiked her lashes and glistened on her pale

  cheeks. “Do you see?”

  Puzzled, he followed the sweep of her arm over the mist-

  shrouded valley below. For a brief moment he thought he saw

  a city of white and gold gleaming in a warm summer sun. Simply

  garbed people strolled along flower-lined paths which wound

  around unpretentious yet elegant buildings. The sound of music

  drifted on sweetly scented air. Then he blinked, and the image

  blurred to a swirl of snow. “See what? There’s nothing but

  rocks and snow.”

  “Andacor.”

  “The cold has muddled your mind.” Slowly he reached out

  his hand. “Come to me, Sianna. Andacor is naught but a myth.”

  His fingers brushed her shoulder, but she slid away from him,

  closer to the edge. The icy feel of her flesh pierced through his

  gloves and chilled his heart. If he didn’t warm her soon, she

  would be beyond his help.

  “You’re wrong. Andacor is real. It is here.” A confused

  look settled over her serene features. “I can see it. Hear it.

  Smell it. Almost feel it, but I can’t find a passageway.” She

  leaned forward and stretched out her hand.

  His heart jolted as her body bent over the drop, but didn’t

  plummet into the abyss. Something held her back, an invisible

  barrier he couldn’t see, the same barrier she fought to find a

  way through. He inched forward to try to grab her arm. With

  an ominous creak, the ground shifted under his feet. He

  stumbled backwards and fell to his knees.

  A few yards away Warda paced back and forth, whining.

  Hakan pawed the ground and shook his head. Both beasts

  sensed the unstable ledge he and Sianna stood on. Any moment

  it could give way and plunge them to their deaths. He had to

  act quickly. On his hands and knees he crawled toward her.

  Through the barrier, Sianna could see Andacor spread out

  in front of her, a dream of perfection. Here she and her child

  would never know fear or pain, anger or discontent. Harmony

  flowed in the air. Peace and serenity beckoned her to enter this

  otherworldly place. One more step and she would be home.

  She lifted her foot.

  “For moon’s sake, Sianna! Step back. If I come any closer,

  the ledge will crumble under my weight. I cannot reach you.

  Step back.”

  Kyne’s heartfelt entreaty stayed her efforts. She paused

  and glanced back at him. He crouched just out of reach. Fear

  tightened his lips to a thin line.

  “There’s nothing to dread. This is Andacor. Laila told me

  my mother was from the mountains. These are her people. I

  feel it in my ka. I belong here.”

  “There’s nothing in front of you but oblivion. Andacor is a

  myth, an illusion of light.” He rose. The ground groaned. “You

  belong to me. I’ll not relinquish you to a mirage. Either come

  back to me, or I’ll come to you and we’ll both die.”

  Poised at the gates of paradise, she hesitated at his words.

  “You would risk death rather than release me?”

  “What is mine I hold. Come to me, Sianna.”

  Though hardly a declaration of love, possessiveness rang

  in his voice. She was his. And he knew it. But he was not hers.

  In her mind, wordless voices drowned out Kyne’s harsh

  command. She cocked her head to listen. Later she would

  consider Kyne’s feelings for her.

  They are of us. An elderly woman spoke first. She is Mala’s

  daughter.

  A younger man said, The man’s bloodline is thinner than

  the woman’s. His connection to us is weaker, third

  generation. Perhaps even fourth. He does not believe.

  Few outsiders trust in what they cannot see, hear or

  touch. To them we are n
aught but a tale with which to put

  young ones to sleep. We are the world that was. They are

  the world that is. She spoke with resignation, then addressed

  her words to Sianna. Child, all who accept our reality are

  welcome in Andacor.

  Sianna smiled at Kyne. “The people of Andacor welcome

  us.”

  No, child. You may enter, but the other may not. He

  walks the path of vengeance. It destroys him. Hatred blinds

  him to this world. Andacor does not exist for those without

  faith, hope or love. Forgiveness is his only path to salvation.

  Understanding blossomed inside her. She and Kyne were

  of two worlds, but they could live only in one. Kyne denied

  Andacor’s existence. If she chose Andacor, when he tried to

  stop her, he would fall into the void below. Even if he did not

  die, his current path would ravage his ka until there was naught

  left but an empty shell.

  There was no choice. Farewell.

  She turned and stepped into his embrace. The ground shifted

  beneath them. Kyne threw himself away from the edge, and

  they fell backwards into a snowdrift. With a sharp crack and a

  low rumble, the ledge sheared away at their feet. A cloud of

  snow and dust rose in the air. Kyne’s rasping breath in her ear

  muffled the sound of falling rock and dirt.

  Like an icy rain, reality drenched her. How close he’d come

  to death. Shuddering, she buried her face in his shoulder.

  She lay on top of him, their limbs aligned from shoulder to

  knee. Heat from his body seeped through her chilled flesh, his

  warm breath slid over her frozen skin, sending shivers down

  her spine. The rapid thud of his heart matched the uneven

  thumping of her own.

  He stood, taking her with him. His fingers dug into her

  cold-numbed arms, and he gave her a shake. “Foolish woman.

  Why did you run off? You could have died of exposure. Fallen

  off a cliff. Been ravaged by a sardak. What were you thinking?”

  At his touch, his anger swept through her, sparking her own.

  She shoved away from him and crossed her arms over her

  heaving chest. “I did not give up paradise to be scolded like a

  naughty child.”

  “Then cease to behave like one.”

  Cold rattled her teeth as she challenged his accusations.

  “Are the deaths you speak of any worse than death on a spike?”