Moonlight (6 page)

“Anything to end that woman. She said
you
gave her her powers.”

Sylas pointed to his bare, chiseled chest. “I?”

Aowyn’s eyes narrowed.

Sylas chuckled. “I am but a miserable creature who can grant wishes. How would a woman gain power from…” his voice went up an octave, “me?”

“Will you help me or not?”

Sylas’s smile widened. “Yessssss…”

Aowyn took a deep breath. “What must I do?”

“Magic comes with a price, Princess. Are you prepared to pay it?”

“If you end Ciatlllait and change back my brothers.”

“I believe we can come to agreeable terms, Your Highness.”

“What is the bargain?”

Sylas raised his webbed hand and moved it in an arc through the air. “In one-thousand moons…”

Aowyn’s jaw dropped. “That’s nearly three years!”

Sylas blinked at her. “These things take time, Princess. I cannot simply magic it all away.”

Aowyn sighed.

Sylas continued, “In one-thousand moons, I will change your brothers back on one condition.”

“Name it.”

Sylas leveled his gaze on her. Aowyn felt as though his stare would bore through the very core of her.

“You cannot breathe a word of it.”

Aowyn’s brow knit. “That’s it? That’s too simple.”

“Ah, yes, simple. It is the simple things that are the most difficult.”

Aowyn tingled. The creature kept something from her. “What happens if I speak of our agreement?”

The skin above Sylas’s jagged teeth rippled. “Your brothers die.”

Aowyn gulped.

Sylas extended his clammy hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Aowyn’s hand reached forward hesitantly. She chewed her lower lip. How hard could it be?

Sylas gripped her skin, sealing the deal with a hiss.

Aowyn took in a sharp breath.

Sylas backed away to the water. “Our deal is binding as soon as you leave the bogloch.”

Aowyn watched the creature sink beneath the water that bubbled around him and then faded as if they had never been there to begin with.

THIS MEANS WAR

Tall, dark-haired, handsome Bannock Blacksteed stood before his father proudly, almost too much so. There wasn’t a maiden he couldn’t rescue or a cause he could not save. He had muscles in all the right places. Firstborn of Lord Regent Rab, Vicomte of Blackthorn, across the sea from the Summer Isle, Bannock the Bold was the stuff of legend. His young brother, Xander, stood beside him.

Bannock had seen his twenty-second summer, but Xander had only recently celebrated his sixteenth nameday. Baby fat still awkwardly clung to Xander in places while the rest of him was chiseled. He had seen plenty of sword play in training yards with Bannock, but had not been battle hardened or a war hero like his elder brother. Xander’s jaw flexed. He waited for his father to speak.

“I’m sending you away.”

Xander glanced at Bannock to see his older brother filled with bridled excitement.

“I want you to take half of my army to the Summer Isle and claim it in the name of the Blacksteeds.”

“Yes, Father.” Bannock’s voice was deep and rich and eager.

“Aodhagáin, King of the Isle, has recently suffered the grievous loss of his beloved queen. Word has traveled that he is so forlorn that he hardly leaves his castle. Such a pity.”

The two young men said nothing.

Rab tilted forward in his chair. “He is weak and vulnerable now. Crush him.”

Xander tapped the heels of his boots together like a good soldier.

Bannock pounded his burly chest. “It will be my honor.”

Rab waved for his servant and ordered ships, men, and all necessary equipment for Bannock. “You must arrive in time for their Bealtaine celebration. They will be at their weakest. Everyone will be distracted with festivities. Attack from the north end of the Isle. They have the fewest guards there. The Summer Isle has not seen war in many generations. The enemy is well-trained, but our men far outnumber them. Your job is simple.” Rab motioned toward his eldest son. “You may go.”

Bannock went ahead of Xander and strode out of the room. Rab grabbed Xander’s elbow and pulled him aside. His expression went dark. “I’m sending you with him. Stay out of the way.”

Xander’s brow knit. “Why must I stay out of the way? This is my chance to prove myself to you.”

Rab’s jaw set. “Things never go as planned when you try to prove yourself, Xander. You always get in the way. You killed your own mother coming into the world.”

Xander winced. It was not the first time he had heard such an admonition. He was the accident. The failure. Bannock could do no wrong, and Xander could do nothing right. “Yes, Father.”

Xander breathed a sigh once outside and relaxed. Bannock cozied up with his betrothed. She, a pretty girl of seventeen, was a ward of the Blacksteeds and bound to Bannock. If anything happened to Bannock, Xander would be obligated to take his place as groom by law of the land. Xander ducked around a corner to spy on his older brother and the girl.

“What did he say?” she asked.

Bannock looked at their linked hands and then into her hazel eyes. She had done up her dark-blonde hair neatly and tightly under a net of pearls. “I am to go to the Summer Isle and return with a boon for our wedding, dear Glenna.”

The girl’s smile faded. Understanding dawned. “You mean to war?”

“If we are to have lands and jurisdiction, we must take them by force. The Twelve Kingdoms cannot be split further.”

“What if you do not return?”

Bannock’s hands slid down Glenna’s waist and pulled her close. “I forbid you to think of that.” He smirked. Glenna went on tiptoe to kiss him.

Xander turned away. This marriage had been arranged for Bannock. All the good things were arranged for Bannock. If anything should befall him, Xander would need to fulfill a duty to protect the girl and to serve her honorably as husband. However, Xander would not put it past his father to send him to a far-away land to die and ensure Bannock continued to reap the rewards of life. And if Bannock died, Gods forbid, Rab surely would not hesitate to take his place as Glenna’s husband. It would not surprise Xander in the least if Rab had really picked Lady Glenna for himself and not for his sons.

Xander couldn’t help feel a twinge of jealousy while he listened to Bannock and Glenna get a little more than friendly a few feet away. Glenna treated Xander nicely, but surely no passion existed between them. What he’d give for the love Bannock won from everyone he met.

Finally the two lovers hushed to a ragged breathlessness. “I must go.” Bannock stole one last kiss. “We will wed upon my return.”

“I will wait for you,” Glenna murmured.

Xander stood beside Bannock on the deck of their ship. A spring breeze kicked up whitecaps on the water and tussled the young mens’ wavy, black hair. Save for size and age, Bannock and Xander looked like twins.

Bannock took in a deep breath of the salty sea air. He leaned against the rail, watching a bonfire flicker in the distance. The festival of Bealtaine was in full swing. Bannock had sent scouts ahead and awaited their signal to strike. Their small army of two-thousand men stood ready on the shore.

At last the scouts whistled the song of the Blacksteeds. Bannock clapped Xander on the shoulder. “This is it.” He grinned at Xander. “Hold down the fort. This shouldn’t take long.”

“I want to come with you,” Xander said.

Bannock shook his head. “You’re more useful to me on the ship, Xan.”

Xander’s shoulders slumped. Bannock took the last rowboat ashore.

“Alright, men, let’s have some fun!” Bannock crowed and led his army up the beach.

Xander watched them fade into the woods. The ship creaked and groaned, bobbing on the water. Half a skeleton crew bustled about on the ship, taking stock of supplies below and running maintenance. Xander didn’t really think he was needed here. He wanted to be beside Bannock, earning half the glory. Bannock had made Xander a good fighter, but Rab never provided Xander with the opportunities Bannock got.

Xander half-heartedly kicked the rail a few times.

The bonfires of the field in the distance flickered when Bannock and his men crashed the festival. Ant-like dots flurried in panic. A ring of fire formed from a toppled wicker man at the center of the celebration. Screams flew on the night wind.

Xander’s fingers tightened on the rail. He closed his eyes for a moment to envision being beside Bannock. He was so lost in the imaginary clang of swords, the grunts of effort, and cries of adrenaline, that he did not notice what was happening on the ship. The sound of bows and blades being drawn opened his eyes. Five swords pointed at his throat. Xander’s heart palpitated. A quarter of Bannock’s own men had returned. They swarmed the deck.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Little Brother,” one of the men said.

Xander’s sight drifted to a fat man with stiff, salt-and-pepper whiskers. A crooked gold tooth jutted out of his lower gums like a bulldog. Part of his face was concealed behind an eye patch.

“Where’s Bannock?” Xander asked.

“Dead.” The fat man looked at his fellow men with a grin. “I hope.”

Xander kept his breathing steady. “Why do you want him dead?”

“You’re joking.”

Xander blinked.

“Everyone wants that puffed-up bunghole dead.”

“That’s not true,” said Xander.

The fat man leaned in on Xander, his one good eye penetrating him. “No?”

Xander swallowed.

The fat man smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

The fat man nodded to his men. They lowered their swords. “Throw this pup overboard. Let us see if he can outswim the kelpies.”

Xander struggled against the mutineers. His feet lifted from the deck. Air enveloped him. He flew backwards over the edge of the ship. Water filled his lungs. He swung his arms and kicked his legs until he surfaced in the waves, coughing and sputtering. He headed to shore as the ship sailed away. Dark forms swirled in the waters nearby. Xander breathed hard. He raced forward with all his might. A creature lifted its head with a squeal. Xander swam faster. He focused on the shore. The creature zipped toward him. Teeth sank into Xander’s calf. He hollered. He slammed the heel of his boot into something solid. The creature caterwauled and raised a horse-like head over the waves. Its bulrush mane whipped around as it bore its hungry fangs. Xander struggled through the water. The shore drew closer. The kelpie rushed after him once more, forming whitecaps in its wake. Xander choked on water and yelled. He fended off the water beast again. The shallows loomed before him. Other kelpies caught up and circled. Xander’s hand sank into wet sand. He pulled himself onto the beach and limped.

Xander collapsed near a bank. His leg throbbed. He gasped. The kelpies crashed through the water, calling in frustration to one another. Xander ran his shaking hands through his hair. Kelpies had been something nursemaids scared their charges with in fairytales, but they had always been just that—a tale. Xander never would have fathomed such a thing really existed.

His breathing slowed. The kelpies grew quiet. Waves crashed on the shore. Xander sat up on his elbows. His heart began racing once more. A kelpie had come to shore. It stood beneath the moonlight.

Xander backed slowly toward the grassy banks.

The kelpie snorted and reared on its black, equine haunches. It charged forward.

Xander scrambled to his feet. He tripped in the grass. Xander rolled but found his way again. The kelpie galloped behind him. Xander ran toward the trees. He searched frantically for clues on which way Bannock and the army went. The kelpie squealed and gnashed its teeth. The thunder of its hooves drummed the earth. Xander glanced behind him. A trail of flattened, wet grass slimed beneath the kelpie. Xander darted into the forest and ran as fast as his injured leg could take him.

Xander paused. He bent over, hands on his knees, out of breath. He straightened and looked for the dark waterhorse. Between the trees, the kelpie changed from wary man to angry waterhorse and back again as if trying to decide whether navigating the forest held merit.

Xander shook his head. “Go back to the water. I’m not worth your time.” He pitched himself against a tree, resting his head on the bark. “I’m not worth it,” he repeated. “I’m not worth it.”

The man turned back into his waterhorse form with a huff and plodded away.

Xander exhaled a deep breath. This was a dangerous new land he had come to. At the thought of danger, the mutineers came to Xander’s mind, and he panicked for Bannock’s sake. He listened to the night. The roar of battle, heard well from the ship, had quieted. Xander’s stomach knotted. He looked at the stars to get his bearings and dashed in the direction of the skirmish.

Patches of flame and ember licked the dirt. Men battled a small army bearing an emblem of the sun on their shields. Half of Bannock’s army lay scattered on the scorched earth. Xander scanned the remaining soldiers for Bannock. He stooped to take a sword from the chest of a fallen enemy soldier. He paused a moment. Siren songs in the surrounding forest beckoned Bannock’s soldiers to leave the fight. Those of weaker constitutions chased after the voices. Others chased those who abandoned the fight in an attempt to bring them back.