Moonshadows

Tall bronze pole lamps stood about the room, but only the one nearest the door was still burning. The quick walk from the reception room had put Altyr in his bedroom ahead of his servants, something he appreciated. He had always felt awkward about some other man pulling his trousers on. He hadn't grown up expecting it, and even three decades of that service hadn't changed his attitude.
Altyr sighed at the darkened room, walls paneled with nearly black saltwood from the Treeline. The wood was precious, harvested from the only forest to survive the Drowning, but it made for a very dim and depressing room. Tapestries depicting the history of the realm added some relief with glints of golden thread, past conquests and glories of the kingdom of Tygaras woven as a prideful tribute. The lightest part of the room was the golden silk hangings draped from the carved posts of his massive bed. He never understood why they bothered with the drapes. Like most people, he slept with his eyes closed, and he spent little enough time in the room the rest of the day. Several eyes glinted from the silk coverlet, the embroidered eyes of mythical beasts ridden into combat during the War of Rejection.
Pale green moonlight seeped through the open balcony window, angling off a gilded stand mirror on the other side of the room. His reflection grew as he walked towards it. In that light, it was impossible to tell the fair hairs from the gray in his head and beard. Undoubtedly, today had added more gray.
The moonlight glinted from one crystal face of the Vision Stone hanging around Altyr's neck, and Altyr tightened his fist around it, drawing the golden chain tight, feeling the links dig into the back of his neck. He relaxed his grip. It wasn't his place to question the will of the Mediator, and he wouldn't start now.
Jaw clenched, he paced about the empty room. He had never asked for any of this. He had been content to let some other fool noble take the throne during the last succession. But then Father pulled this Stone from nowhere and a few miracles later everyone had found their faith again. And then they stuffed him into his trousers, his cloak, this black box. Both fists clenched at the end of tense arms jerking with frustration.
As he returned up the room, the moonlight from the balcony beckoned him, a brightening escape from the box. His pace quickened as he stepped up onto the balcony. I only hope I haven't missed it. Neither the servants nor the guards appreciated it when he stood on the balcony. A target for arrows, Captain Byrt reminded him time and time again. But the green glow of the false moon had awakened a childhood memory, and he only hoped that he was not too late to see it.
He sighed again as he stepped out onto the balcony, this time in relief. A glance to the left showed that the smaller false moon had already passed over the horizon far to the north, casting the white stone of the capital city in a faint green light. They called it the crystal city, though the white stone did not compare to the real crystal on the mountain. I haven't missed it yet! He looked straight ahead to the east.
The horizon showed a pale glow, silhouetting the mountain range to the east of the city. Altyr hoped the moon was full; it had been quite some time since he'd had enough time to pay attention to the phase of the moon. Only a moment later, slivers of light sprung from the peak, and Altyr smiled. Few things compared to moonrise over Mount Euroclydon.
An unbroken line of pure white now ran across the mountain, a jagged line marking the edges of the crystal spires. As he watched, the line grew, swelled into a thousand different refractions of the moon, white and gray sweeping across the sky in front of him. As he always had before, he glanced down at his own moonshadows, streaming out behind him in nearly all directions. His mother had told him once that each of those represented a path he could have chosen: fair to consider, but impossible to keep. They always solidified into one shadow: your own past, cast from the present. A harsh reality, he thought, as he looked enviously at the faint dancing shadows.
He heard a soft sound of delight from off to his right. He tuned to see Elyse, her red hair soft over her shoulder, her eyes also refracting the moonlight. She glanced his way then, and smiled. For an instant, she was her mother, with each of her moonshadows holding promise and hope. Altyr smiled back.
The moon shadows vanished one by one as someone lit the lamps in the chamber behind him, their light spilling out over the balcony. With one last brilliant smile, Elyse turned and slipped quietly into her room, taking all the wonder of the moonlight with her. A high voice floated out from inside. 'Is there someone out there?'� With one last look at the moon, he turned and entered his chamber.
Standing on the far side of the bed and holding a glowing lamp lighter before him like a sword, Altyr's servant Rohr exhaled and straightened when he saw who was entering the room. He'd grown since Altyr had seen him last. Now his blond head brushed the drapes of the bed, where before, he'd had trouble setting them up after they were cleaned. Altyr had put the lad on his shoulders then; if he tried that now, Rohr's legs would probably dangle to his waist. Of course, he was only a year older than Elyse, but it was easier to see Elyse as a child still.
'You scared me, Sire,'� the youth said, blowing the glowing end of his splinter into a ribbon of smoke and setting it at the base of the lamp nearest the bed. 'I thought you were still in your meeting.'�
'I'd said all I needed to say, Rohr. Here, let me help you.'� Altyr crossed to the other side of the bed and grabbed the upper edge of the embroidered coverlet, almost a tapestry in itself, to begin the process he and Rohr had developed for whenever Altyr arrived ahead of the other servants. Altyr enjoyed the routine, since he got a minute of independence, and Rohr got a minute free of duties.
"If you don't like it, Sire, then why do I put it on in the first place?" Rohr asked, as they reached the end of the bed. After folding the coverlet in half again, Altyr tossed his end to him, and Rohr quickly bundled it up until only three snarling faces showed.
"Mainly because Jadir insists. Maybe he likes having something to watch when he cleans up. Besides, it's hideous." His chief steward meant well, but when it came to tradition, he was as rigid as the boards on the wall.
Rohr barked a laugh as he straightened. "He would like that, wouldn't he?" The servant headed for the wardrobe as Altyr unbuttoned his coat. Silence stretched for a moment before he brought Altyr's nightclothes and laid them on the bed.
"Rohr," Altyr said, sliding his arms into the silver silk robe, "what do you think of the Federation?"
Rohr's eyes widened. "You want my opinion, Sire? You're the one who just spent hours meeting with the experts. You're the one who reads the reports."
"Experts make mistakes too. Not even this guarantees perfection." He shook the Vision Stone at Rohr before tucking it into his undershirt. Father had found that out firsthand, ignoring the stone's warning while addressing the people from the balcony. Maybe all the foiled assassination attempts made him think he actually was immortal. The one time he thought he could do without the Stone's help was the beginning of Captain Byrt's arrow paranoia.
Rohr nodded. "Well, the clerks have all been walking on air the past few days. Tygaras as a whole stands to prosper greatly from this trade agreement. It opens up literally half the world to us. How do you feel about it, Sire?"
Tell him. Altyr's arms relaxed after belting the robe closed, tension draining from his body with the emotions that always accompanied a command from the Mediator. "If Tygaras allies itself with the Federation, it will invite disaster and bondage. That was the impression that I received during my meeting. ."
"So the Federation is evil?"
"I don't know, Rohr. All I have is paper and their word on it. But both of those are flawless. It's easier for the experts to convince themselves that I'm speaking for myself when so much profit is on the line." He kicked his trousers onto the bed.
Rohr started gathering up Altyr's scattered clothes. "Well, Sire, if it's worth anything, I've never had reason to doubt you. I'm not about to start now."
The door creaked quietly as it opened, and Jadir entered, his face fixed in its perpetual bland expression. 'Good evening, sire.'� His voice echoed the door as he bent stiffly. Rohr quickly folded the garments in his hands over each other before clutching them to his chest. The chief steward's eyes glinted green as they swiveled behind his bronze face, taking in the entire room. After a moment, he gave a fractional nod, and Rohr exhaled, bowed to Altyr, and started towards the door. Two other liveried servants filed through the door, one carrying a white towel and the other a steaming pitcher on a platter. Rohr gave Altyr one last nod before squeezing past.
'Your draught, sir,'� Jadir intoned, motioning to the other servants. The two men started slightly with a clatter of silverware, and the regained their composure and started across the room. One servant's hand trembled as he poured the draught into the cup. Altyr didn't recognize the man, but the first time serving the king would make anyone nervous. A few dark drops of the herbal concoction Altyr had taken every night since he'd been married slid down the side of the silver cup.
King Altyr took the cup and, as usual, looked Elwyn in the eyes as he sipped the liquid, its bitter taste fitting his mood. Drink this, her voice repeated in his mind, before she reached for the cup herself. They say it's less bitter when shared with a friend. Jadir straightened, waiting. The draught was exceptionally bitter tonight.
The portrait hanging on the wall opposite the bed was the one feature of the box that Altyr appreciated. He and Elwyn stood side by side, her long red hair framing her pale face beautifully. Altyr didn't like how stern his face looked, but then, he never spent much effort looking at himself painted in heroic size. His face stretched across the curve of his silver cup, and even there looked years older than the face in the portrait, though but three years had passed since Chancellor Ruban had commissioned it. His life without Elwyn was the main reason that the years hadn't been as kind to him.
The burning inside lingered longer than usual. 'Jadir!'� he called, and turned his head to find the chief steward right next to the bed. His eyes glinted maliciously, though his face wore the same bland expression. 'Something is wrong. Go and fetch Yves and'�'� His breath left him with a groan as his stomach clenched. He needed the castle physician immediately.
'Troubled stomach, sire?'� Jadir said, making a gravely noise in his throat. King Altyr realized that he had never heard Jadir laugh. The sound pebbled his skin. He tried to move, but the burning had spread to his limbs, and he was paralyzed.
'Jadir!'� His weakened voice was drowned out even by Jadir's soft chuckles. The two servants at his door looked relieved. Of course they would, since they had helped poison him. Together, they had shifted one of the tall standing lamps to block the doorway. Why hadn't the stone warned him?
'Oh, sire,'� Jadir continued, 'I'm sure that the old man taught you enough to know the effects of firebane root. Paralysis, starting from the stomach. The outer limbs go next. The lungs are the last to shut down as the poison goes through, making death long and very, very painful.'� Jadir now threw back his head and howled with laughter.
The servant who had carried the platter started forward, hand reaching behind the tabard of his livery and balling into a fist beneath the golden cloth.
Altyr had been so careful, heeded every warning. Now his country would face certain ruin, and he would not be there to save it.
Jadir's laughter cut off abruptly, and he turned to face the servants. The servant in the front drew his long dagger, and the one behind him started reaching under his tunic. 'The stone is mine! I won't settle for less!'� He stalked closer towards the bed. Before he took two steps, he arched his back with a muffled cry. The second servant pulled his dagger from the first's back and stepped over him, dagger held at the ready. A little drop of blood dripped onto the hardwood floor.
'You are dismissed.'� Jadir made a sideways throwing motion, and a dark spot appeared on the right shoulder of the livery. The servant stopped short, the dagger falling from nerveless fingers to clatter on the floor. The firebane had been prepared in its strength for him.
Jadir grabbed the servant by the shoulders and sent him toppling backwards over the body of his comrade with a simple shove. Altyr's lungs burned, but each breath felt like breathing fire. Jadir bent under the bed, retrieving a cask of lamp oil.
'Would my sire like a nightcap?'� he intoned, and began chuckling again as he doused the furniture and furnishings of the room. One swift kick broke a leg from a table with a swath of cloth made a makeshift torch, and Jadir quickly spread his arson around the chamber. The golden flames gave a bright contrast to a suddenly black night outside the large window to his balcony.
With that, Altyr knew. The Vision Stone shall fly in fire, yet shall return, when the nation is purged. And yet, Tygaras shall stand, and shall shine as a light towards the west. He recalled the faces at his coronation, dismayed at the sudden message from the Mediator, recalled pushing it as far back as he could against his enhanced perception and attention. I prophesied my own death.
Altyr turned his head straight with the last of his strength. He knew that he was dying, but for some reason, he felt calm. He barely noticed as Jadir lifted the Vision Stone from around his neck. He gazed at the portrait of his family. He found it fitting that as his most prized possession was the first thing that greeted him every morning, so it would be the image before his eyes for the last few moments in this mortal world.
The golden frame was starting to melt, and the image was discoloring where the flames were catching, but there they still were: Elwyn, and Elyse. Elyse was the only thing he regretted leaving behind, as he was only rejoining his wife on the other side. What a twist of fate that as she died of a scorching fever, he would follow on a blazing pyre!
His skin tingled slightly as Jadir poured the rest of the oil over his body. Suddenly, a panoramic vision burst before his eyes, the first glimpse of the next world. Past and future came together, and Altyr would have laughed if he had had the strength in his lungs. He now knew that all of this was a part of the fate the Mediator worked to bring about. He took his last glimpse of the world he knew, and he smiled as he looked at his daughter's smiling face, which by now was the only distinguishable feature left on the flaming canvas. There would be no reminder that he, Altyr of Tygaras, had worn the Vision Stone, no physical testament of his wife's beauty. But none of that mattered now. Nothing would separate him from his family. Not forever. Until they were reunited, Elyse would be safe. He passed into the enfolding warmth.

''

The flames licked at the wooden roof beams of the king's chamber. Tapestries depicting the history of the realm, closely woven threads depicting the past conquests and glories of the kingdom of Tygaras, all were fast becoming ashes flying on the currents of shimmering air. Jadir fingered his trophy, its crystal facets glowing blood red. He finally had it; the Vision Stone, the heirloom of the Tygaras line for generations. This was his moment of triumph!
Yet, instead of the sense of superior power, the murder of King Altyr had left emptiness in his soul. Yet, he did not notice the inferno raging around him, nor was he concerned with the shouts of the guards finally coming from the stairwell.
Despite dying a horrible death, King Altyr died with a smile on his face, and Jadir could not block the image from his mind. So many others had stood in his way and fallen, faces twisted in fear or anger, eyes blank or stinging from betrayal. But here, he had finally succeeded in taking King Altyr's most precious possession, and in his final moments, he seemed not to even taste his own death!
The king's sightless eyes seemed to stare at Jadir, and for the first time in his life, the full horror of what he had done reverberated to his center. The wheezes of the slowly dying servant behind him, kicking fitfully on the ground, echoed in his head. Altyr's face filled his mind, and Elwyn's picture burned into his memory. With a roar, he flung the small remnants of his torch at the king, causing him to burst into flames. No, Altyr will burn, and I will finally have the glory that I deserve! The thought sounded faint against the echoing of his seared soul as the flames framed Altyr's peaceful face.
Jadir coughed as the smoke seared his lungs. Behind him, one of the roof beams came crashing down in a shower of sparks. He regained control of himself. He would deal with Altyr later. By the time they realized that this was anything more than an accident, he would be well on his way. He ran to the window.
''

Elyse awoke in a sweat. Once again, she had had the dream. Two swords, one made of crystal, the other black as night, flashed amidst images of people and places that Elyse had never seen nor imagined. The two blades clashed, and she woke up.
Her darkened room was just as it always had been. Mahogany furnishings made it a bit somber, but the light of the moon from the uncovered bay window provided just enough light to make out their edges. Father seemed to smile again in the moonlight, and Elyse calmed down. Everything was as it should be; her very fine and mostly unused dollhouse still stood in the corner, and her archery set was still hidden under the dresser. Chancellor Ruban disapproved of most of her hobbies, but as far as she was concerned, he could mind his own business. Ever since Mother had died of that fever when Elyse was young, she had been raised mostly by Chancellor Ruban and her many tutors. He meant well, but he was just so stuffy! Not to mention his firm ideas on the place of women in castle life. He was the one who had given her the dollhouse, although he wasn't very happy when she set up her dolls and used them as targets.
That was when she'd promised Father that she would try harder to be the little lady everyone wanted her to be. Chancellor Ruban had drawn himself up to his full height, waving his slender arm in front of him for emphasis. He did that often, thinking it made him look regal. It makes him look more like a scarecrow than anything else. Elyse thought. Either way, she was obedient when father asked her to obey the chancellor, although she did catch the smile in his eyes while the chancellor was explaining the situation and she knew that the promise was more for the chancellor's benefit than it reflected his own wishes.
Father understands me, Elyse thought as she settled back under her sheets. He understood that she would rather be drilling with Captain Byrt and the Home Guard than doing needlepoint, or some other useless, frivolous thing. She didn't mind the practical turn of things, and she had surprised the kitchen staff by demanding cooking lessons. But whenever she tried to really learn something, Chancellor Ruban would swoop down like a kingfisher and order her back to her stupid lady things.
So, she had started sneaking out at night for secret fighting lessons with her guard friends. They had protested at first, but when she pointed out that she was just as easy to guard outside her room as inside, they saw things her way. Everyone did, with enough time. Soon she was learning for about an hour before bed each night. That lasted until the chancellor checked up on her.
Suddenly, smoke filled her lungs, and she started coughing violently. Fire! Instinctively, she jumped out of bed, the stone floor cold under her feet. After all of Chancellor's ranting, her escape artist tactics were saving her life! Despite the danger, she couldn't repress a satisfied smile. Rohr might have the advantage in height, but being short meant that there was less to move.
Her smile quickly disappeared as she ran out into the hall and saw a wall of flames billowing from her father's room far away down the hall. She froze, staring at the scene, her long red hair flying in the backdraft. She barely heard Captain Byrt frantically calling her name, and she didn't move as he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. It was only after he had dashed around the corner and down the stairs that her dry eyes released their tears.

''

They called it The Edifice.
There was simply no other word to describe it. It towered above the kingdom of Augustan, encompassing the capitol city of Dexia like a frozen tidal wave waiting for the right moment to fall upon the meager lives of its people. Architects from centuries gone had built upon the foundations of the ancients, each successive level with all the style and beauty that his generation had to offer. Stone catwalks seemingly wrought of lace connected domed towers to columned halls, all above perfumed hanging gardens full of exotic plants. Waterfalls descended from high above, cascading past sculpture and banner, misting through overgrown, forgotten plant tangles, descending into the blackness below the foundation where the great river Rethra ran towards the cliffs of Dexia. The years of war had come and gone; kings and rulers had lived, died, and been forgotten, not necessarily in that order. The city had shaped itself around it, and The Edifice ascended ever higher.
Senarius wished that they had built it shorter.
The wind whistled through the arched colonnades, blowing Senarius' golden cloak before him and making it glint red in the early twilight. The Sacred Heart, sworn to guard the Prophet of Augustan, trailed behind him, a dark flash of green far to the side of the golden rim of his spectacles. Hundreds of feet below the thin-seeming stone railings, the cityscape faded miles into the distance, blending seamlessly with the tops of the Kvol Mountains in the distance. Senarius took care not to walk too close to the railings; he had orchestrated too many accidents over those railings, and the image and sounds of the results stayed with him. He was so close to the inner curve of the hallway that Haron loomed directly behind him rather than at his right, the guard's head nearly brushing the side of the arched ceiling.
Senarius normally avoided seeking out Lord Thanatos in his quarters. Interrupting him at the wrong time could lead to an accident. Lord Thanatos guarded his secrets very closely. But he had given orders for this, however incomprehensible, and Senarius' authority should protect him somewhat. At least it will be a quiet death. Probably poison.
As they rounded the curve of the hallway, a golden-liveried lamplighter looked over from his sconce and gave a gasp, nearly dropping his glowing rod. 'My Lord Prophet!'� Without hesitation, he knelt on the checkered white-and-gold floor tiles, directly in Senarius' way.
Giving the man the perfunctory blessing gesture without really looking at him, Senarius passed without swerving aside. He heard the servant scuffle to his feet behind him, likely trying to get away from Haron. Despite his vow to the Church and his office, Haron's swarthy, scar-crossed face under the gleaming domed helmet usually inspired fear rather than admiration. Three sets of footsteps echoed in unison in the silent hallway without missing a beat.
If Senarius had known how much aggravation came with the role of Prophet, he might have turned the offer down. Of course, turning down Lord Thanatos usually meant a personal experience with a long way down. Prophet was another role worthy of Senarius' skill, and his pride had pulled him in, he supposed. Why settle for lulling pedestrians for his anonymous band of thieves when he could influence the world?
The world was a larger place than Senarius had imagined. Tonight's annoyance stemmed from five years of events across continents, using the finest of their agents scattered across the Church and the Federation to track a vanished piece of jewelry. Of course, most people believed the mystic legend of the Vision Stone, enough to gain Lord Thanatos' attention. It galled to have to compete with a rock.
The sun sat on the tips of the mountains behind him as Senarius approached the tall, fiery gold doors that led to Lord Thanatos' chamber. The two guards standing beside the door might have been statues cast from the door's metal, aside from the dark contrast that deep eye holes made in the flashing blank face masks. Senarius approached the door, and both pairs of guards tensed for an instant, green an instant after gold. He pushed the doors open with an aggravated sigh. Pausing to resolve this wouldn't make his news any better.
Despite the late hour, light still filled the large main entry of Lord Thanatos' apartments. Thin crystal casements left small glowing slits between silvered mirror panels along each outer wall. The room's furnishings, a carefully arranged collection of rich saltwood furniture interspersed with guilding, reflected into a dark green oblivion. An army of his own reflections crossed the empty room, small despite his tall, three-pronged headpiece, the Sacred Heart flowing behind him in a smoothly advancing line.
A replica of the entry doors stood open on the other side of the room, and the extra light entering the doorway from the balcony reflected in brighter diamonds across the golden marble floor. The doors let out on the east face of the Edifice, its white stone showing a blue tinge in the twilight shadow that slowly spread over Dexia.
Lord Thanatos stood at the point of the oval balcony, surveying his city. The high-altitude wind caught his hair and fanned it behind him, showing the same color as the pale stone. At his right, a familiar young woman stood shaking her head, her eyes wide and staring.
'I hope you'll reconsider.'� Thanatos' voice rattled from the poisoning that had turned his hair white, but that was nothing to the sounds the poisoner made when the Removers were finished with him. 'For now, please wait in my chambers. Senarius will escort you down once I have finished my business with him.'�
The woman gave a jerky courtesy and turned to leave. She met Senarius' eyes, and her jaw clenched for an instant. He gave her a reassuring smile, and some of the tension left her face, migrating to his mind. Women among the brotherhood? Senarius only knew of men in the Sons of the Morning. Was she the first, or just the most recent? Short, with a long nose and curly chestnut hair. Where had he seen her? 'Wait with our daughter in the antechamber,'� Senarius commanded, and the Sacred Heart turned and flanked the woman back among the mirrors.
'See that she has an accident.'�
Haron would see to that. With any luck, Senarius would be against the far wall where he would only have to deal with the sudden silence after echoing screams. 'Yes, Lord Thanatos.'�
'What news of the Stone, Senarius?'�
Nothing for it. 'Lord, our brother has been assassinated and the Stone has vanished, with his other brother returning at the point of death.'�
Thanatos said nothing as the light deepened to bronze sunset. 'My Lord Thanatos,'� Senarius continued, 'we have spent five years pursuing this myth, at the cost of some of our best brothers. By my council, we should forget this stone altogether. I speak for the Mediator, and I speak for you. You are the Mediator to your people.'�
'Can you explain away miracles, Senarius?'� Lord Thanatos faced him, revealing dead eyes as stony blue and devoid of life as his hair. 'Twenty years ago, miracles were enough to topple the throne of Tygaras. Either you will perform those miracles, or there will be no miracles. Especially not for you.'�
Senarius bowed his head, mainly to hide his eyes. 'Understood, my Lord Thanatos.'�
'You underestimate the Mediator, Senarius. Those who have never met him often do.'� The phrase jerked Senarius' head up. 'My wealth is men's souls, Senarius. They will choose me, if I have to expend all the blood of the brotherhood to do it. Your work, and your life, is to find the Stone for me, and if it can't be used, to remove it from the world.'�
Lord Thanatos returned to his study of Dexia, where the long shadow of the Edifice now stretched almost to the edge of the horizon. 'I hear and obey, my lord.'� Senarius bowed, then glided calmly back across the floor. He would find the Stone, but not at the expense of the brotherhood. It was time to free more prisoners. As he passed the woman and his guards, he straightened his headpiece by the center prong before motioning the woman to walk at his side. Haron nodded.
The woman hastily followed him past the two mirrored guards out into the hallway, and in the light of the newly lit lamps, Senarius recognized one of his night servants. His stomach clenched again, more than it had on the way up. He only descended two levels of the Edifice before he had Haron grab her by the shoulders and throw her over the edge. Her head hit the side of the building and she did not even scream. A long way down and I barely escaped this time. The sun sank into the ocean in a great smear of blood.

''

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