A Lament of Moonlight Read online

  She sat up and groaned as her back protesting the movement. When she breathed too deeply, a biting pain seized her ribs and she worried that the drop had damaged something inside. Her eyes throbbed in the illumination of the chamber.

  Before her was a rough wooden table and two chairs that were so weathered and crooked that Leona doubted they could hold any real weight.

  A tall, slender man was situating himself in the chair farthest from her. She waited for the chair to give out beneath him, but to her dismay it didn’t. He folded his delicate fingers together. One hand was white, the other black like polished stone. In fact, every visible part of his right half was black, his sky blue eyes sparkling like gems in the night. His hair was the blondest she’d ever seen.

  She was entranced by the lovely man, and she found herself standing in awe. Leona brushed the dirt off the seat of her pants, worried that she wasn’t presentable for this man. Wyrd seeped into her, she felt a shift in her mind when the man smiled.

  “Please,” he said. “Sit.” He held out his white hand toward the chair opposite him. “Would you like something to eat? Maybe a drink?”

  “Yes please,” Leona said. Something inside of her screamed not to accept anything he had to offer, but she was hungry, and certainly he wouldn’t hurt her, right? Part of her thought he would, but a calming presence brushed those thoughts aside.

  Leona sat opposite the man, running her fingers through her short hair, hoping that it looked presentable to him. He smiled at her, and she blushed, casting her eyes away from him. Heat flooded her face. Here she was, dirty from the road and there he was, lovely and proper. What a mess she must look.

  “Don’t be ashamed,” Gorjugan said, touching his white hand to her clasped ones. “You can have a bath later, but first I would like to talk to you.”

  A plate of slop was sat before her and a cup of dirty looking water. Leona recoiled from the food, but as her stomach churned, the image wavered and she was no longer looking at slop and dirty water.

  A goblet of the deepest red wine sat on the table behind a plate piled high with roasted potatoes, and slices of juicy meat, all dripping with a thick, rich gravy. The scent was intoxicating, and she inhaled deep.

  “Go ahead,” Gorjugan insisted. “Eat, you need your strength.”

  Leona closed her eyes and shook her head. This isn’t real, she told herself. This can’t be real.

  But when she opened her eyes, the image remained.

  It’s not real, Leona, fight what he’s doing to you, Skuld spoke into her mind. Leona leaned away from the food and crossed her arms over her chest. She had to cross her arms over her chest, because if she didn’t, she couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t fall face first into the plate of illusioned food.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Gorjugan asked, a smile playing on his face. He looked so kind, so helpful. She found her resistance faltering. Her arms slacked over her chest, and she started to lean forward.

  Stay fast, Skuld warned.

  “I’m hungry,” she agreed. “But I’m hungry for food, not wyrded lies.”

  The corner of Gorjugan’s mouth twisted into a frown. “Very well,” he said, waving his hand. The image of the delicious food vanished to be replaced with the grayish gruel from before.

  Leona dumped out the water and handed the cup to him. “Some clean water, perhaps?”

  “Don’t press your luck,” Gorjugan said, a dark glint flitting across his crystal eyes.

  Leona didn’t back down, despite every nerve in her body screaming that she give ground to him.

  Gorjugan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and crossing one leg over the other. He nodded to a troll who came forward, snapped the wooden cup out of her hand, and left. Moments later he returned. Water sloshed out of the cup as he slammed it onto the table.

  Leona began to eat, taking slow measured bites. She wouldn’t let them see how disgusting she found the rank slop. She needed her strength, just as Skye said. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be eating.

  She washed it down with a gulp of water.

  “So what do you want from me?” she asked around another mouthful. Leona made a show of chewing. If he was trying to wyrd her into impressing him, then she would do her best to do the exact opposite.

  “What makes you think I want anything from you?” Gorjugan twittered. He smiled and Leona felt a rush of sensation flood her body. She cleared her throat and swallowed her mouthful of food. Once more she was confronted with the embarrassment of how she was acting, and how it was like a tom boy would act…or Abagail!

  “You can stop trying to confuse me with your wyrd,” Leona said. It took an extreme force of will for her to say that. As she thought about what she said her blood thundered through her throat, and her mind tilted strangely. All she really wanted to do was give in to him, give him what he wanted and let his darkling wyrd wash over her, making everything alright.

  Gorjugan’s smile faded. He twitched his foot a few times, rocking his leg back and forth. “What I want from you?”

  Leona nodded because she couldn’t trust her voice wouldn’t betray her true emotions. She felt she had the upper hand now, but that could all fade in an instant.

  Gorjugan motioned with his delicate hand, and the troll left once more. When he returned Leona’s heart hitched for another reason.

  He carried the hammer.

  The two-headed troll rested the hammer on the table before her, hilt straight up in the air. Leona’s eyes studied the runes around the edge of the hammer’s head. She inspected the brown leather wrappings along the length of the hilt.

  “Congratulations,” Leona said. “You took our weapons.” Her hands itched, and she placed them in her lap, trying to stop herself from taking hold of the hilt. The hammer was nearly half her height. If Abagail couldn’t lift it, what made Leona think she could carry it? But there was something deep inside of her that screamed out that the hammer was hers.

  “Yes, we took all of your weapons, but this is more than a weapon,” Gorjugan said. “This is the God Slayer.”

  Leona blinked several times at his assessment. She knew that the weapon was the God Slayer. She had witnessed Hafaress taking the hammer. She’d heard someone proclaim that it was the God Slayer before she woke.

  She shrugged. “It’s just an old hammer that we’ve had around our home.”

  “Yes, Olik stole it so very long ago, and then made off with it into another world. It had been missing for a long time. But not any longer. Now it’s back. Now it’s with me, and my sister will use it as its name dictates.” Gorjugan studied the hammer, hunger flashing in his eyes. But there was something more underneath. It was as though another awareness was peeking out from behind his crystalline eyes to study Leona instead of the hammer.

  She shivered, her blood running cold at what he intended to do.

  “You plan on killing the Gods with that hammer?” she wondered aloud.

  “In time. But there’s something that needs to be done first,” he said. “It seems as though Olik locked the hammer somehow.”

  “Who is this Olik you keep speaking of?” Leona wondered. “I don’t know any Olik. This is my father’s hammer.”

  “Then your father must be Olik!” Gorjugan trumpeted. “This is perfect!” he clapped his hands gleefully and laughed a full throated laugh. “Your father runs away from the Ever After, and assumes a new name!”

  Leona stared at Gorjugan. She knew he was powerful, but she didn’t know he was insane as well.

  “But that’s not the best part of it. What the best part is, he integrated himself with the Bauer family. I bet he told you about his sister Mattelyn and his brother Fortarian?”

  Leona’s mouth ran dry. She couldn’t help but nod.

  “But they aren’t truly his family. They took him in when they found him alone and lost in the Fey Forest. And then he found the mirror. Later in life, it would be that mirror he slipped through to some world we never knew until now.” />
  “You never knew?” Leona said.

  Gorjugan smiled. “Now, I need your help unlocking it. Your father must have told you how to open it.”

  Leona shook her head.

  Gorjugan frowned. “Now isn’t the time to be coy. I hold all the cards, you have nothing here.”

  She straightened her back. “I’d rather die than help you kill the Gods,” she said. Leona couldn’t imagine something like that could happen, but she’d seen the dream. She knew it could. She knew this weapon before her had belonged to Hafaress at one time. Still belonged to him. But then why did she feel like it was hers?

  She could barely believe that a divine weapon lay before her. To think, someone she’d only heard of in myth and scripture was real…and here was a weapon he’d clasped in his hands.

  “Of course you would,” he said, leaning forward. “All you have to do is sate your desire to touch it. Grip the handle.” He motioned toward the hammer, encouraging her to take it.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her hands under her arms.

  “You will do as I bid,” Gorjugan said. He leaned back in his chair, mimicking her posture. “I have all the time in the world.”

  Leona sighed and let her shoulders droop. “Alright then, do you mind if I sleep?”

  “If that’s what you’d like,” Gorjugan said. “By all means, sleep.” He motioned to his right to a cot laid out against the far wall. “This is now your room. Should I leave you in peace?”

  “On second thought, I’m not that tired,” Leona told him.

  “Very well, whatever you desire.”

  “I desire to go back to my sister,” Leona said. “I can’t help you.”

  “You can help me. And you won’t go back to your sister until you do as I bid,” Gorjugan said.

  “Then I guess we’re wasting time,” Leona said. “I’m not helping you. Even if I knew how, I don’t have the desire to.”

  “Desires can change,” Gorjugan said. “With some persuasion.”

  “Persuade all you like,” Leona said. “It’s not changing my mind.”

  Gorjugan smiled patiently. “Maybe you should sleep on it.”

  Leona yawned. She hadn’t realized before then that she was truly tired. She wondered maybe if it had something to do with the food she’d been fed. Had they drugged it? Her eyelids felt heavy, and she nodded to Gorjugan.

  “I am rather tired,” she confessed.

  “Oh, dear child, I bet you are. Such a long and hard road. How homesick you must be. Come now, let’s rest for a time.” Gorjugan stood and helped her to the cot.

  Inside she knew that this was a trap. Something inside of her mind railed against her actions. But she couldn’t help it. She was so very tired. Maybe some sleep would help her.

  Leona laid back in the cot, and Gorjugan tucked her in.

  Gorjugan stood in front of the swirling mirror, his hands clasped before his waist. The dark surface roiled and bubbled as an image formed beneath its dark depths. The bubbles melted away to reveal the misshapen form of Hilda. Her right half lovely as the day she’d encountered the lake called Elivigar. The toxins of the waters had offered up to her the shadows, and she’d grabbed them greedily. So it was the left half of her body was twisted and decayed. In some places the bones showed through. Gorjugan ignored those parts.

  “How does it fare with the God Slayer?” she asked, her voice echoing through the distance like a ghost into his mind.

  “Well. We have it in our possession,” Gorjugan told his sister.

  Hilda’s one living eye darted up to his face, the healthy side of her mouth curved up in a smile. “That is good to hear. So all is ready for an attack on the Ever After?”

  “Not yet,” Gorjugan said. He clasped his hands behind his back, rubbing them together. Her eye burned into his face. He swallowed hard before continuing. “Olik seems to have locked it…somehow.”

  “Figure out how to open it,” Hilda said with a wave of her dead hand. He could feel the withered flesh upon his neck, her fetid breath along his face. The color drained from him.

  “The girl should be able to do that,” he said.

  “Which girl?” Hilda quirked an eyebrow.

  “I have Olik’s daughters in my possession it would seem.”

  “And you know this, how?”

  “The one confessed that the hammer belonged to her father,” Gorjugan told her. He dared a glance up to her face once more. She wasn’t looking at him. Instead she was looking at a space beyond him, as if reading something in his energy, or looking through the walls behind him to get a feeling for the layout of the caves.

  “Very interesting. So, your brother?” Hilda smiled the healthy half of her mouth.

  “This body’s brother,” Gorjugan looked away from her face.

  “Use their blood,” Hilda said.

  “Are you sure that will work?” Gorjugan asked.

  “It’s blood. That’s where darkling wyrd normally starts, isn’t it?” Hilda asked.

  His mind flashed back to a scene much like this where he laid prone in her sick beds. “Did you know,” she said, feeding him another piece of meat. “That confusion can do a great many things to the mind? Take snakes for example. When they are under great stress, they’ve been known to do horrible things like attack each other, eat one another, or even eat themselves.” Gorjugan felt something tear from his side, and he hissed in pain. She lifted a slab of raw meat to his mouth, and he ate hungrily. As he swallowed he saw the bloodied knife dip back down to his side, and he felt it slice away another slab. She lifted it to his mouth, but he turned away. She smiled, the healthy half of her mouth turning up.

  “Why are you doing this? How are you doing it?” Gorjugan asked.

  Hilda dipped her fingers into the wound and lifted a scarlet drop upon her rotten fingertip. “You’ve disappointed me, brother. As to the how, blood is always a good starting point.”

  “I will not—” disappoint you… “I will do my best, sister.” Gorjugan bowed at his waist.

  “I’m sure you know the price of failure,” Hilda said with a smile. “Your sick bed is still open.”

  “Leo.” A hand shook her shoulder. “Leona.”

  She opened her eyes, blinking several times until the blurry face before her melted away to reveal her sister, Abagail.

  “I thought you were going to sleep through it all,” she said, and then smiled.

  “Through what?”

  “Our rescue.”

  Leona sat up straight, all traces of sleep racing from her body. She tossed her legs over the side of the cot and stood up. She patted her legs and her arms. There was something she was forgetting, wasn’t there? She had her cloak.

  “Where’s my scepter?” she asked.

  “It’s in the main chamber with the others. Come on, grab the hammer, let’s go,” Abagail urged. She crossed the small chamber to the entrance.

  Deep shadows hung in the corners. Water was dripping from somewhere, but Leona couldn’t see where it was coming from.

  “What do you mean grab the hammer? You can’t even lift that!” Leona argued, stepping closer to the table where the hammer rested.

  “What are you talking about?” Abagail turned to her, her eyebrows knitting together. “It’s not hard, just pick it up.”

  Leona sighed and clasped her hands together. They felt damp…sticky. She gazed at her palm, but she didn’t see anything wrong. She reached for the hammer, and her hand hesitated over the hilt.

  She took a deep breath. For the last few days she’d wanted nothing more than to take this hammer, claim it as her own, and now was the chance. Now was the time to take it, and her mind protested.

  Leona clasped her hand tight into a fist, and then stretched her fingers out wide.

  “Leo, come on, they won’t wait for us forever. Just grab the hammer and let’s go!” Abagail urged.

  “Alright, okay,” Leona huffed. She grabbed hold of the hilt and a shiver of power ran throug
h her arm, shockingly cold. She tried to release the hammer but it wouldn’t come loose of her hand. She pulled her arm back, and the hammer sung as it scrapped away from the table.

  Light flared through the chamber, nearly blinding Leona, but she couldn’t look away from the glowing hammer. It was like the head of the hammer was being replaced by a sun. And then the light faded until only the hammer remained glowing a golden color in the dismal chamber.

  “Perfect,” a voice said. Gorjugan stepped closer to her and Leona realized what happened.

  Blood was running down her arm, pooling on the floor beneath her. It hadn’t been Abagail at all. It was him this entire time.

  “No,” Leona said. She stepped backwards, the hammer slumping beside her, still in her grip, and easy to lift. “You tricked me!”

  “And here Olik is your father, trickery should run in your veins, not mine.”

  Leona stepped further away from him, but he came closer to her. She held the hammer up, amazed at how light it was, and pointed it at him. “Don’t come any closer, or I swear by the light of the Waking Eye, I will kill you with this.”

  Gorjugan’s face palled. His hands poised in the air between them, as if warding off her threat.

  “You would do that?” he asked. “To your own uncle?”

  Leona’s head swam and she stumbled back into a chair. The chair rocked back as she sat down heavily. “Fortarian?”

  “Well, that’s who I used to be,” Gorjugan said. “Before he let the plague take him and I slipped in. But yes, he’s in here…somewhere.”

  Leona shook her head and pushed to her feet. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’ve never met him. I wouldn’t know what I was losing. If the plague has him, then he’s already a darkling, right? A harbinger of darkness? He should burn in the Waking Eye.”

  “Well then, consider that I have your sister,” Gorjugan said, rounding the edge of the table. Leona looked behind her, she was close to the door. She was almost there, all she had to do was get a little closer. Could she remember how to get back to the cell?