Legacy of Moth Read online

  Torumun swung again, cutting deep into Eris's shoulder.

  Eris faltered. He wanted to cry for his Oringard for aid, but they were busy fighting their own duels.

  He fell to his knees. He rose again. Torumun struck, and the blow rang against Eris's helmet, and Eris fell. His sword clattered across the cobblestones.

  Torumun stood over him and shook his head sadly.

  "And thus your life ends, brother. You could have served me. Now you die like a worm. Farewell."

  Torumun raised his sword high and swung it down. With his last whisper of strength, Eris raised the Meadenhorn. Torumun's blade hit the artifact and shattered into many shards.

  For an instant, Torumun stood frozen in shock, holding a blade-less hilt.

  Eris grabbed one of the fallen steel shards, rose to his feet, and drove the metal deep into Torumun's throat.

  His brother gasped. He tried to speak. He tried to pull the shard out. He fell, sprawled out, and would not rise.

  Eris stood panting, bleeding, shaking. Around him, the Oringard defeated the last Radians in the street.

  My father, Eris thought in a haze. My wife. My brother. I slew them all. What remains of me?

  Iselda walked toward him through the carnage. Her eyes were sad, as if some spell had lifted from them. She seemed very fair, tall and pale, her golden hair shining, her eyes the deepest blue. The sorceress placed a hand on Eris's wounded shoulder.

  "You fought bravely, Eris," she said. "You proved yourself stronger than your father. Stronger than your brother." Iselda caressed his cheek. "I will let you take me. I will be your wife. Return with me to Orida, and we will rule together, and the world will bow before—"

  Eris lifted his fallen sword and drove it into Iselda's chest.

  As she died, he wept.

  He looked around him at all those he had killed, the death he brought wherever he went.

  "All I wanted was to retrieve the Meadenhorn," he whispered, holding it up, gazing upon its beauty, the filigree and jewels that shone. "An heirloom. A blessed thing, the horn Orin drank from. It saved my life . . ." He lowered his head. "It saved me as I killed all others around me. It is a cursed thing."

  He unslung the horn off his neck. He tossed it aside. His Oringard stared at him, silent.

  "My lord," said Halgyr, the squat, bearded lord of the Oringard. "You are wounded and need healing."

  Eris gazed at him with clouded eyes. "Halgyr, you are strong and wise. Lead them. Lead the Sons of Orin. Become more than a soldier. Become a king."

  Halgyr raised his chin. "You lead us, Eris Grimgarg. You are our only king. You are Orin Reborn."

  Eris shook his head. "I am Orin fallen."

  He raised his brother's sword. And he fell upon it. He closed his eyes and he thought of his wife, of the stars in the night that he would gaze at so often, wondering at their distance and beauty. He oared toward them in a great longship, the waves black, sailing toward halls of mead and song, toward Yiun Yee.

  The Oringard stood around him, staring down at their king, heads lowered.

  Halgyr knelt and held the fallen king's hand. Head bowed, he spoke softly. "He fell with honor, though his heart was filled with shame. He died nobly, though he lived believing himself ignoble. He fought the enemy bravely, saving many lives, though he thought himself a murderer. We will carry on his name and the name of his fair wife, the wise daughter of the night. Forever will Orida remember Eris and Yiun Yee, the sun and moon of our island." He placed a hand upon his king's head, and his gruff face softened. "Farewell, my king of sunlight." He turned toward Yiun Yee and gazed at her calm, pale face, a countenance fair even in death, and at her eyes that stared toward the sky. "Farewell, my queen of shadow. May the sun and moon forever shine upon you."

  With that, Halgyr rose, walked down the street, and lifted the Meadenhorn upon its chain. He hung it around his neck, and his fellow Sons of Orin gathered behind them. They lifted the bodies of their king and queen and bore them out of the battle and into legend.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE:

  TORN

  "To the castle!" Madori shouted, riding Grayhem through the city. "Friends, with me!"

  Many soldiers of the Alliance ran with her, fighting for every step. His dragon fallen, Jitomi now rode a shadow panther, the beast clad in armor as black as its fur. Neekeya had lost her elephant in the battle; she now shared Grayhem's saddle, clinging to Madori with one hand, swinging her sword with the other. Thousands of other humans and animals battled around them, a great swarm covering the city.

  "Onto the roofs, Grayhem!" Madori cried, pointing upwards. "The streets are too crowded."

  The nightwolf seemed to understand. He leaped onto a building, jumping from window to spout, until he was racing across the tiled roof. Jitomi's panther followed, racing close behind. They vaulted off the roof, sailed over a street, and landed on the next house. They sailed across another street, then kept leaping from roof to roof. All around them, countless soldiers clogged the streets, battling over every cobblestone. Madori spotted her parents fighting a few blocks away, leading a host of Qaelish warriors through the city's third and final layer of walls.

  She returned her eyes to the city crest. Solgrad Castle rose there upon the hill, the mountains rising behind it. That was where he lurked. She felt him, felt his eyes staring from the castle tower. She felt his sword cut her again, like it had cut her on the road outside of Teel. The scars of that battle remained. That battle would now resume.

  "To the castle, Grayhem," Madori said, pointing ahead. "Take us there."

  They vaulted across a wide street swarming with troops. Arrows flew from below, hitting their armor. They kept riding. Jitomi's panther leaped at Madori's side, a shadow darting forth. Soon they were only a few hundred yards away from Solgrad Castle. It loomed above, the greatest building Madori had ever seen. She could make out the gates ahead, several guards outside them.

  Sitting behind her in the saddle, Neekeya tightened her grip around Madori's waist. "Only several men guard the doors, but he'll have many soldiers around him."

  Madori nodded. "And we bring many with us. With magic. With wolf and panther. With swords and arrows. We end this now."

  She looked behind her. The Alliance troops were storming forth. Many of their nightwolves and panthers had also taken to traveling the roofs; hundreds now rode behind Madori. Thousands more raced up the streets.

  "With thousands of swords," she whispered. "We end this."

  Leading the pack, Grayhem sailed across another street when the explosions rocked the city.

  Sound slammed into Madori. She screamed, not even hearing herself, and grimaced, unable to cover her ears while holding shield and sword. Smoke blasted across her an instant later, and debris peppered her. The smell of gunpowder flared. Bricks flew through the air. Grayhem leaped through the explosion, landed upon a roof instants before it crumbled, then vaulted again and landed in a courtyard. Jitomi and his panther landed beside the nightwolf, coated with dust.

  Grayhem turned around, and Madori felt the blood drain from her face.

  Several city blocks were gone. The devastation spread in a ring. Ancient buildings, thousands of years old, had collapsed into rubble. Dust and smoke rose in clouds, and the smell of gunpowder joined the stench of death. A hundred Alliance troops lay upon the ruins, torn apart. Thousands more were buried.

  "He surrounded the castle with barrels of gunpowder," Neekeya whispered. She dismounted and stared at the ruins, dust painting her gray. Her eyes reddened. "He . . . he must have killed thousands of his own people to stop us."

  Madori stared past the rubble. A mile away, the rest of their forces were still battling Radians in the streets, advancing only foot by foot. She sneered and spun back toward the castle.

  "And so I face him alone."

  She began riding uphill toward the castle, eyes narrowed, her katana raised, leaving her friends behind.

  Jitomi raced up toward her upon his panther. "Mador
i! We cannot storm the imperial palace without an army."

  Neekeya ran alongside. "Madori, we must turn back."

  She kept riding, ignoring them, staring ahead at the castle gates.

  You're in there, Serin, she thought. You're watching me now, awaiting me. Her fingers tingled around the hilt of her sword. I'm coming to you.

  "We won't need to storm the castle," she said softly. "He knows we're coming. He's waiting for us. And I will face him alone." She looked at her friends. "Go back. Go rejoin the others. I must do this now."

  They kept advancing with her, moving away from the ruins toward the castle.

  "We parted from you once," Jitomi said. "It took a long time to reunite."

  Neekeya nodded. "We stick together from now on. Always."

  Moans, screams, and clanging steel rose behind them in a chorus. Silence lurked ahead. They rode across a courtyard strewn with rubble and approached the castle gates. Only a dozen guards stood here, armed with pikes; they charged forward. The three young mages, summoning their training from Teel, cast forth blasts of dust and air. The magic slammed into the guards with the force of a typhoon, knocking them back against the castle walls. They slumped down, unconscious. Another blast of magic shoved the doors open.

  Shadows loomed inside. Madori could see nothing but darkness, and cold air flowed from within. She felt as if she stood outside a tomb; she hoped it was not her own.

  Madori halted her nightwolf and dismounted. She kissed Grayhem. "You've brought me this far, noble hunter of the moonlit plains. Return now to your comrades who fight beyond the rubble. Do not follow me into the shadows."

  He stared into her eyes and bared his fangs. He growled as if to say, "I am a creature of shadows. I come with you."

  Madori shook her head. "I will not bring you into danger. We fought in great battles, but here lies my greatest fight, the greatest danger. I cannot bear to see you face it, to lose you." Her eyes stung to remember how Naiko had wounded the nightwolf, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "I've lost too many friends already." She pointed east, away from the castle. "Go, Grayhem! Go!"

  The nightwolf wouldn't budge. Eyes damp, Madori summoned her magic. Her tears fell as she thickened the air, as she magically shoved the wolf away, kept him shielded from the castle. His howl tore at her. He clawed at the wall of air, trying to reach her, wailing as she turned away.

  I'm sorry, she thought. I cannot place you in more danger.

  Katana raised, Madori stepped through the castle doorway and into shadows.

  * * * * *

  As Madori walked through the shadows, she imagined herself back in Eloria, traveling across the great lifeless plains of Qaelin toward the Desolation. She had felt so alone then, so afraid, seeking guidance, seeking a teacher of war. Now again she walked in darkness, seeking not training but the battle itself. And now again she felt afraid.

  But I'm not alone.

  She looked at her companions. Jitomi walked to her right, clad in dark armor, the dragon tattoo nearly invisible upon his pale face in the shadows. The Elorian boy who had approached her at Teel University two years ago. The Elorian man she had kissed, made love to, perhaps even loved.

  Neekeya walked at her left side. Her dark skin and midnight hair nearly vanished into the shadows, but Madori knew that the marshland warrior held a great light inside her. The tall, awkward girl who had attracted so many snickers at Teel, speaking of magical artifacts, offering friends lint-covered toffees from her pockets, and smiling obliviously even as others tormented her. The warrior who had fought for the proud marshes of Daenor, who had returned home with the armies of Sania, who had led men in battle and fought against the horde of an empire.

  And one among us is missing, Madori thought. Tam is not here. Our quartet is forever broken.

  Torchlight blazed ahead, casting back the shadows. They found themselves in a grand hall, windowless, lined with columns. The tiles were black, the walls red. A throne rose ahead, and upon the wall behind it draped three great banners, long as dragons, of the Radian Order.

  Serin sat upon the throne, legs splayed out, while Lari stood at his side.

  Madori gasped and narrowed her eyes. She had killed Lari! She had stabbed her in the grave of skeletons, had—

  This's not Lari, she realized. It's a lookalike. A trick.

  "Welcome, friends!" Serin said, rising to his feet. He clapped languidly. "You've done well to come this far. I've been anxiously awaiting your arrival. Welcome!"

  Madori wasted no time. She summoned particles of smoke and fire from the torches, tugged them down to form a hovering ball, and lobbed her projectile. The magic blasted forward, crackling and shrieking.

  The flames and smoke shattered against Serin's shield of air.

  Neekeya gave a wordless cry and raised her palms, and Serin's armor began to redden, to heat and creak. Jitomi snarled and blasted forth strands of smoke; they coiled around Serin and tightened, cracking the emperor's invisible shield, beginning to constrict him.

  Serin only grinned and raised both palms.

  Neekeya and Jitomi screamed, levitating a dozen feet in the air. Serin thrust his hands forward. The young Ilari emperor and the marshland warrior flew through the hall, slammed against columns, and slumped to the floor. Serin laughed, curled his right hand's fingers like a puppeteer, and a stone statue of himself tilted over and slammed down onto Jitomi, crushing the young man. When Neekeya tried to rise, Serin yanked down his left hand as if tugging a rope. A chunk of ceiling came loose and slammed onto Neekeya, burying her under rubble.

  Madori screamed and ran toward the emperor, sword swinging.

  Serin raised his palm, and Madori slammed into an invisible wall of air. She kicked, trying to break through, to cut her way forward with magic and steel, but she remained frozen.

  "Poor little mongrel . . ." Serin said. "Struggling like a mouse between the cat's paws." He raised his hand, levitating her into the air. Madori thrashed, unable to free herself. "I want you to see something, mongrel. I have a little show for you. Do you enjoy theater? Behold, then, the theater of your life."

  Holding her aloft with one hand, Serin swept his other hand to the left and right. The Radian banners behind the throne parted like curtains.

  Madori stared between the banners . . . and screamed.

  Behind the curtains lay a great chamber, its brick walls painted with sunbursts. The floor sloped inward like a bowl, and many writhing, squirming creatures filled the declivity. Their skin was pale gray and wrinkly, their eyes huge and red. Fangs stretched out from their mouths, and claws grew from their fingers. Naked and warty, they climbed above one another, snapping their teeth, mewling, whimpering. Their bones pushed against their skin; she could see the ribs clearly, even hints of red where the hearts beat.

  They were Elorians.

  Not Elorians like the ones Madori had always known, proud and noble people of the night. Here were Elorians like those the Radians drew in their books, sculpted as their gargoyles, and burned as effigies in their rallies—the twisted, evil creatures who hungered for the flesh of Timandrians, sub-humans with minds of shadow. True nightcrawlers. The creatures saw Madori and reached toward her. Some tried to climb out of the pit, only to slide back down onto their brethren.

  "I made them myself," Serin said. "From the Elorians I captured in the night. I had to . . . modify them a bit, to coax out their true forms. Soon the world will see the evil of the nightcrawlers."

  But it was not the creatures—these nightcrawlers in the pit—that made Madori shed tears, that made her heart ache, her belly twist, her soul crack. It was what she saw above the pit.

  Her parents.

  Torin and Koyee were wrapped in strands of magic, held afloat in the chamber like marionettes on strings. Gags of tar filled their mouths. The astral ropes bound their arms and legs, nearly tearing through the limbs. The creatures below kept leaping, reaching up their claws, snapping their teeth, trying to grab Torin and Koyee, to feed upon them.r />
  Her parents stared at Madori, tears in their eyes, entreating her to flee.

  Madori wept and tried to reach toward them, unable to break through Serin's magic.

  "If they fall into the pit," Serin said, "they will not die. No. The nightcrawlers will infect them, turn them into fellow beasts. Only my magic now keeps Torin and Koyee afloat. I found them in the battle easily enough; they were not hard to recognize even in the crowd. But, sweet Madori . . . if I let them drop, they will become very, very hard to recognize."

  Finally Madori found her voice. "Mother! Father!" Held in Serin's magic, she could not move forward, only stretch out her arm, trying to reach them.

  Serin tsked. "You might consider calming yourself, sweetest mongrel. Only a slight lapse in my concentration, and my magic will falter. I will not be able to keep Torin and Koyee floating above the pit." He looked at her and tilted his head. "Fight me, and I'll have to dedicate more magic toward you, away from holding your parents above their fate. Kill me and they will certainly fall." He lowered Madori to the floor. "Now place down your sword . . . and we will talk."

  Finally freed of his magic, Madori wanted to leap forward, to stab Serin, to end this war, to kill this tyrant. She took only half a step forward, and Serin smiled. Her parents dipped a few inches in the cavern. The creatures in the pit squealed with hunger, leaping up with more vigor. One scraped Koyee's foot, drawing blood. Serin only smiled wider, never removing his eyes from Madori.

  Trembling, Madori took a step back.

  "Now drop your sword," said Serin.

  Never removing her eyes from her parents, Madori obeyed. Min Tey clattered onto the floor.

  "Good!" said Serin. "Such an obedient cur. Now we shall negotiate your terms of surrender. It's quite simple. You will speak to the commanders of this so-called Alliance. Your parents being who they are, you're the closest this horde has to a figurehead. You will order the treacherous Timandrians who oppose me to return to their lands; they will have another chance to join my empire. You will then order the nightcrawler mobs to retreat back into the darkness; let them lurk again in shadows, far from my walls. Once their retreat is completed, and this city is safe from their aggression, I will release your parents."