A Lament of Moonlight Read online

  What if Leo is right? She wondered, casting her gaze to her sister. The darkling wyrd within me reacts to attacks. If I use it protectively instead, could I cleanse Gorjugan from Fortarian? Would it make any difference? Like Celeste said, he was a darkling long before Gorjugan took him over.

  She wasn’t sure, but she had to try something. With a darkling god inside of him, it was foolish for Abagail to think that she could win in a wyrded battle against him. She closed her eyes and willed the protective wyrd to come.

  The wyrd didn’t respond. She remembered then that the cell was guarded against its use. She sighed. With any luck, she could prepare herself to use it once the doors were open. That is, if the enchantment was broken like it had been last time when they came for Leona.

  They can’t take her! Abagail thought. Anger swirled in her stomach at the thought of Gorjugan coming for her sister. What had he done to her? Why had he cut her? She had to keep her safe.

  Stop, she thought. These aren’t the emotions you want. You can’t do anything about what he did to her, but you might be able to do something to stop it from happening again. And maybe, save two lives from that snake.

  Abagail closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. She thought about her sister, and her father, and how she didn’t want to bring the mountain of her plague down on them. She thought of how she wanted to escape here, alive, and more the person she used to be rather than the darkling she was becoming from the hate the shadow plague offered up to her so readily.

  It didn’t help. She couldn’t stop thinking about all the times she’d failed in controlling the darkling wyrd. Maybe Rorick was right, she wasn’t trying hard enough. I’m going to die like this, she thought. I’m going to become a mindless darkling with no hope of ever being anything else. Never seeing my father again, and leaving my sister to deal with all the things she shouldn’t have to deal with.

  “Abbie,” Leona said. “You can do this.”

  Abagail looked up and into her sister’s blue eyes. All at once a kind of peace filled her. She was staring at her sister and knew that, no matter how much she used to piss her off, that Leona needed her. Leona believed in her. She believed that Abagail could beat this, and she needed Abagail to beat this.

  I’m not weak, she thought. You can’t have my body, she told the darkling wyrd. She clenched her fist tighter against the dark thoughts, and as she did, peace flooded through her body. Her muscles slackened, her mind cleared. The cramps were washed away in a throbbing hum of power that vibrated down her arm.

  She could feel the power, waiting for her in her palm. Unlike the darkling wyrd, she was able to call on this wyrd within the cell. But it built up in her hand, still unable to be released because of the wardings around the room. There was a sense to it that the wyrd would do as she wished to keep those she traveled with safe. Abagail nodded to Leona just as the keys jingled.

  Rorick pushed the elves and Leona behind him, placing himself between the iron gate and his party.

  “How cute,” Gorjugan said as a two headed troll unlocked the door. “Protecting all of those in your charge.”

  He’s our uncle, Abagail remembered. He’s only been taken over by Gorjugan.

  Fortarian was a darkling long before Gorjugan took him over, isn’t that what Celeste said? She shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. She had to give him a chance.

  But why? Just kill him and be done with it?

  Great, that sounds like Rorick, Abagail thought. She pushed the thoughts aside.

  The door swung open and she felt the enchantments break. The wyrd felt different now. It didn’t seem to fill up her hand, but radiate in the space around her hand.

  Gorjugan stepped in, swinging the keys around one finger.

  “It occurs to me, now, after trying everything that I can, that the blonde girl is the only one who can lift the God Slayer.” He flicked his hand as if remembering something.

  “I’ve lifted it this entire journey,” Rorick told him, stepping forward. His chest puffed.

  “Yes, yes, and I was able to lift it before her blood activated it,” Gorjugan said.

  What should I do? Abagail thought. Gorjugan had stepped into the cell enough that Abagail was behind him and to his left. He hadn’t glanced at her, but before long, he would see that she wasn’t behind Rorick. She had to make a decision. Kill him or try to purge her uncle of Gorjugan like she’d planned.

  If I kill him, that’s what the darkling wyrd would want. I can’t do that. At least, not as a first option.

  “Where’s the other girl?” Gorjugan asked in the middle of whatever he’d been saying.

  There was no time left. Abagail jumped at her uncle, wrapping her arms around him. She was heavier than him, and the force of her tackle carried them both to the ground.

  Gorjugan tried to slither out of her grip, but Abagail wrapped her legs around him, locking him in place. He wriggled and writhed and for a moment Abagail thought maybe underneath all of his human appearance there was still a snake in there. She felt his muscles contract and undulate and somehow he was slithering out of her grip. She tightened her legs around his hips until she felt his bones give.

  Gorjugan gasped in pain.

  “This better work,” she said, slapping her hand to Gorjugan’s face. She willed the Sleeping Eye to waken from her palm. She felt the peaceful wyrd unfurl and the skin of her palm peel back.

  But Gorjugan knew what she was doing and barked a command. The room came to life with activity as her group engaged the trolls. Gorjugan wasn’t going to go without a fight, and since he couldn’t get her off of him by slithering and writhing, he started blasting at her with wyrd. The attack was much more like wind than anything else, a great concussion of air coming from her uncle, trying to blast her off his back, but she held on. The force of his wyrd pushed the both of them around the room in lurching motions.

  He pulled away from her hand, and she couldn’t replace her grip because just then Abagail was too focused with trying to keep hold of her uncle rather than attack.

  All along his skin lightning began to appear, slithering over his hair and his flesh, tingling and zapping her wherever it touched her exposed flesh. Her muscles jumped and contracted under her skin with the current of electricity. She was losing her grip. She had to do something.

  It was apparent that at the moment wyrd wasn’t going to work. She heaved with all of her weight, her arms around her uncle’s neck. His head banged against the floor, but it wasn’t enough. She tried again to bang his head on the floor, but his attacks increased.

  Abagail was blasted backwards off Fortarian, He jumped to his feet before she could get her bearings. Lightning slithered out of his hands and across the floor, seeking her out. She barely had time to let a pulse of silver light out of her hand in a warding before the lightning was beating against her protections.

  A purple light flared to life before Fortarian. Purple wyrded smoke blasted out of the pixie, zapping him in the face in bursts of white wyrd as Daphne attacked the darkling. The lightning abruptly stopped, and Abagail took advantage of the situation. As he was raising a hand to bat the pixie away, Abagail launched herself at him.

  Grappling with Gorjugan she took him to the floor. This time his head banged hard, and though it didn’t knock him out, he still reeled from the attack. Abagail slapped her infected hand against his face and let loose with a torrent of good wyrd.

  Silver wyrd blasted through Fortarian’s body. He shivered, his mouth opening in a scream, but only silver light poured from the depths of his throat, bathing the cell in light. His eyes opened, once blue, but now silver with the wyrd of the Sleeping Eye.

  The shadow of Gorjugan slipped out of Fortarian’s body, repelled by the might of Abagail’s wyrd. It slunk across the floor like an oily residue, and then seeped into the cracks of the stone, melting away as if it had never been there.

  Abagail released her uncle and skittered backwards, aware that the room was full of activity as her gro
up battled the troll. He was big, and her group was without weapons. Rorick was dodging in and out of range, striking the troll whenever he could, keeping the one living head focused on him, and not on what Abagail was doing.

  “Blessed All Father,” Fortarian said, rousing himself. His voice was deeper than it had been when Gorjugan possessed him. “You’ve done it.”

  Abagail looked at him, not sure if she could trust him. How was it that Gorjugan found such a great home in him? Abagail wondered. Is he that weak of will?

  She hadn’t noticed Skye until then, creeping up behind Fortarian.

  As Fortarian pushed to a stand, Skye brought a large rock down on his head. Fortarian dropped like a sack of potatoes, his body finally limp.

  “We need to get out of here,” Celeste said, rushing up to Abagail. “Is there anything you can do? We don’t have our staves, we are without power.”

  “Fighting alone isn’t doing anything,” Skye said. Abagail watched the troll wheel around. Every time Rorick tried to get behind him, the troll wouldn’t let him.

  But Rorick must have noticed that Abagail was done with Fortarian because he turned the troll away from her then. She grabbed the rock from Skye and rushed the troll. He heard her coming, and wheeled around. A large, misshapen hand smashed her in the mid-section, knocking all of the air from her body. Abagail flew against the wall, her head cracking against the stone. A headache bloomed behind her eyes. The troll was now interested in her, and she’d dropped the rock at some point.

  The troll never made it to her. His eyes went slack and he tumbled to the ground. Rorick was behind him, the stone held in his hand. But he wasn’t giving up. He followed the troll to the ground and kept smashing the stone into his head until the back of his skull was little more than mush.

  “I think he’s dead,” Celeste said. “And we need to make out move.”

  “What about him?” Skye asked, pointing toward Fortarian.

  “We could leave him here,” Leona suggested.

  “He’s your uncle,” Skye pointed out.

  “But Celeste was right,” Abagail groaned as she stood. “There’s no way we can trust him. He was a darkling before the snake took him over.”

  “Still,” Celeste said. “He might be useful. Better to let the harbingers decide what to do with him. If he wants to reform, they can help him. If not, at least they can get information from him.”

  “Alright, someone needs to carry him,” Celeste said.

  Skye lifted the darkling easily and tossed him over his shoulder.

  “Listen,” Celeste said, easing up beside the door.

  Abagail turned her head to the door, but she couldn’t hear anything.

  “The harbingers of light are here,” Skye said, a smile splitting his face.

  Rorick ducked his head out of the cell and looked both ways. Content that the way was clear, he grabbed the torch off the wall and followed the glowing orb of Daphne to the right. Abagail soon became lost in the twining corridors. They had made so many lefts and rights that she would never find her way back, even if she wanted to. It seemed each hall had its own offshoot of another hall.

  But at one of the junctures Leona stopped and Abagail nearly ran into her.

  “Wait,” she called to the group ahead of them. She was gazing down a right hand tunnel they were about to pass. There was some sort of light that way. “There’s something down there. It’s the hammer,” she said. There was something strange about her voice, as if she was drunk, or her mind was miles away, maybe at the end of the tunnel with the hammer.

  Abagail frowned.

  “Are you sure?” Celeste asked. “We shouldn’t leave it behind. As long as we can keep our eyes on the God Slayer, the better.”

  Leona nodded woodenly. “I’m sure,” she said, an insistence in her voice that Abagail wasn’t used to hearing before.

  “Alright, we will wait here for you. Please hurry,” Celeste said. The two elves took up a position to either side of the tunnel, keeping their eyes open for anything that might come looking for them, but Abagail was sure nothing was worried about them. The harbingers were keeping everything busy up ahead.

  Abagail followed Leona down the hallway, Rorick tight on their heels.

  “Leo, you can’t lift that hammer,” Abagail said. The light was becoming more prominent.

  “I’ve already lifted it. It’s rather light now,” she commented.

  “How’s that even possible?” Rorick said.

  “Be quiet,” Leona said. She was listening to something. There was a humming coming to their ears as they closed in on the source of illumination.

  It was the hammer, sitting in the center of a large doorway, lightning crackling along its surface, spinning light out around the hallway. A black mirror sat at the end of the hall, reflecting their ghostly image back at them.

  “Leo, don’t touch it,” Rorick said, placing a restraining hand on Leona. “It has some electric charge to it. It will harm you.”

  Leona shook off his grip and stepped forward, nearer the hammer. There was a shimmer to the air beside her. Abagail knew it was Skuld. Still not sure what the entity was, Abagail was worried that it was leading Leona down a dark path. She was only heartened by the fact that Skuld hadn’t harmed Leona yet.

  “Be careful,” Abagail said, knowing that Leona wouldn’t stop if they told her to.

  If Leona heard her, she ignored her. Her sister reached her hand out toward the hammer, and when it neared the hilt, lightning sprang up to meet her questing fingers. The electric storm was like a hand reaching out toward Leona, engulfing her own hand, and pulling her closer to the hammer.

  Abagail gasped and stepped forward, but Rorick pulled her away. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her further down the hall. Abagail screamed out as the lightning storm engulfed Leona. She reached for her younger sister, but Rorick pulled her back.

  “She’s lost to it!” Rorick said. “If you go after her, you will get ensnared by it too.”

  But then the lightning storm stopped. There was a faint glow from the hammer and in the slight illumination Abagail could see sparks of lightning tracing itself over Leona’s body.

  Her sister lifted the hammer with ease, and when she did, a pulse of wyrd rippled through Abagail.

  “What was that?” Celeste asked when they reached the end of the hall. “What happened down there?”

  Abagail could only shake her head. She didn’t know. Something had happened. Something took place between Leona and that hammer, but it was so hard to believe that she’d seen it. Now that it was over with, it was easier to imagine that it was a figment of her imagination more than it was anything like reality.

  “I found the hammer,” Leona said. She lifted the iron hammer in her hand as if it weighed nothing at all.

  Celeste frowned. If she was going to say anything, she didn’t get the chance. Commotion farther up the tunnel interrupted their conversation.

  “We need to hurry,” Celeste said.

  Daphne appeared before them, squeaking and shimmering violet.

  “Our weapons are just up there,” Celeste said. “We need to help them.”

  The elves darted up the tunnel ahead of them, following the lavender light. Abagail followed, Leona and Rorick close behind her. With the thought of being among the harbingers of light, finally, Abagail couldn’t afford to think about what had just happened with Leona and the hammer. She had to think of what was to come. What might they face up there? The fire bringers should make quick work of the frost giants.

  As if her thoughts were foretelling, a wash of water rushed through the tunnel toward them, slipping over their boots and past them. It made the floor slick and the going difficult for the humans, but the elves quickly outpaced them.

  “So much for the frost giants,” Leona said.

  They followed the noise to the end of the tunnel, or what they thought was the end of the tunnel. It opened up to a central room, large around and cavernously tall. Large tables an
d chairs sat all around the expansive room that now looked more like a dining hall than a guard chamber.

  But there was no eating now, only fighting.

  Lots of it.

  The room shook as blast after blast of wyrd took down trolls by the dozen. The roof above them shook, and dust and silt rained down around them. Abagail was afraid that the entire tunnel system might be ready to give out and crush them.

  Across the room a frost giant roared up to his full height, an axe held in his powerful hands. A plume of fire burst around him, and the axe fell with a mighty reverberation to the floor. People darted this way and that to get out of the way as the arms sloughed off the giant to smash wetly to the floor. The rest of his body followed in a deafening rush of water.

  Abagail was suddenly in the fray, trying to get out of the way of the tide of water produced from the dying giant. Through the din she saw the glowing figure of Daphne floating above their weapons.

  Abagail darted out of the way of one giant’s foot and scrambled for their weapons. Her hand found the sword and she stood, swinging it in an arch at an approaching troll. Blood gushed from the severed neck and he slumped over, dead. A young man stood on the other side of the troll eyeballing Abagail warily. His hair was dark and shaggy, as if it really needed to be cut, and he was tall, but thin enough to make himself look awkward. His eyes were rather large and stared out at her from under thin eyebrows. He looked at her infected hand and fire ringed his fingers. Daphne chose that time to flutter between them, her light flickering frantically. Then he nodded and was off, shooting gouts of fire at a frost giant. When the fire connected with the giant, his skin began to melt away with the heat.

  Abagail turned to the weapons, but they were all gone now, and two orbs of golden light told her that Celeste and Skye were in the midst of battle.

  Fortarian lay unwanted where the weapons once were. Abagail was unsure if she should stand guard of him or not.