Secrets of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 3) (5 page)

You're
still my Winky,
she thought.
You're
still the little boy I took into my home . . . the boy I love. Even
if you now love another.

"Oh, fine!" Bailey
said. "Merciful Idar, anything to stop those puppy eyes of
yours. It's not very manly when you make them."

She stomped toward the others
and glared down at the open book. Torin spoke, sometimes letting
Koyee interject, and Bailey listened.

She listened for a long time.

When they were done, Bailey
stood silently for a moment, mouth agape. Finally she laughed and
raised her hands incredulously.

"So you're telling me . . .
that a fabled, ancient dragon held a secret for thousands of years,
then finally spoke of an even older clock, which was built by a race
of creatures called Clockwork Clerics, and which controls the
movement of our world. Oh, and wait!" She laughed again. "Our
world is apparently round and used to spin around its axis like a
marble. And . . . wait . . . this is the best part: We can only get
the world to spin again if we find three pieces of the clock—in a
rainforest, a desert, and an island—and repair it, because the
spider-bears want mankind to work together as a team. Did I miss
anything?" Bailey slapped the book. "Seriously, did I?
Maybe about pink elephants with swan wings, guarding a windmill
inside a volcano that belches out the winds of the world? And tell
me, what causes the seasons—a giant faulty furnace protected by
magical beavers?"

Torin sighed. "I know it
sounds like a bit of a stretch . . ."

"Do you think, Torin?"
She twisted his arm. "Really, do you think?"

"But look, Bailey!" He
tugged himself free from her grasp. "What if it's real?"

"It's not real."

"Just think about it."
Torin looked back at the book. "The Sailith Order is all about
the day fighting the night, about light banishing the darkness, about
the forces of the sun vanquishing the demons of the moon. Well, what
if everyone had a day and night again? What if the sun could rise in
Eloria and darkness could fall in Timandra? What if the ancient dance
returned?"

"There never was an ancient
dance!" Bailey grabbed her head in frustration. "Merciful
Idar! Those are just stories. The world never turned, and no fabled
Clock of Magical Belly Button Fluff can fix it. Those are just fairy
tales."

"Well, I thought dragons
were only fairy tales until I saw them," Torin said. "And
one dragon told Koyee about this clock. So I believe it's true. And I
believe it can undo all the rhetoric Ferius has fed the people."

Bailey groaned. Torin actually
believed this story! She looked at the others, seeking some support,
but they only stared at her solemnly. They too believed.

With
an enraged grunt, Bailey tugged her braids. "I can't believe I'm
hearing this. You lot are a bunch of naive children." She blew
out her breath. "Look, even if it
is
true, and even if we
could
find these three missing pieces—the gear, the hand, and the
number—and even if we fixed the clock and the world
did
turn again . . . so what? Ferius would just preach something about
how Elorians carry the ancient curse and still need to die. You think
day and night rotating again can change his mind?"

Torin
shook his head. "No. Ferius is bloodthirsty and mad. Nothing can
sway him. But his soldiers, Bailey. Do you know why they follow him?
Because for decades now, Sailith has been teaching them that daylight
is good and that night is evil. When day and night are everywhere,
Sailith falls apart. It loses all legitimacy. Its dogma becomes some
bad old joke. How could Eloria be cruel if the sun rose upon it? How
could Timandra be righteous when cloaked in night half the time? You
want to fight Ferius? His greatest power isn't his armies—it's his
narrative
."
Torin nodded. "Let's tear that narrative apart."

Koyee nodded. "We'll have
to find the three pieces. We can tell nobody else of this. We cannot
risk Ferius learning of our task." She looked from one to
another. "We'll split into three groups and retrieve the three
pieces of the Cabera Clock."

Bailey narrowed her eyes, tilted
her head, and stared at the young Elorian woman.

So
. . . you would go with Torin on yet another quest,
she
thought.
Like
you traveled with him last year, leaving me out of the picture.
Bailey
felt that old rage flare anew.
I
see your little plan, Koyee Mai of Eloria.

Bailey looked back at Torin. The
babyface believed in this little picture book story, and if Koyee had
her way, Bailey would be cast aside again.

This
is my chance,
Bailey realized.
This
is my chance to break them apart . . . and to keep the babyface near
me where he belongs.

"Very well," Bailey
said, hands on hips. "We'll go on three quests again. Cam and
Linee! You two will travel to the desert of Eseer to find the missing
clock hand. Torin! You and I will travel to fetch the missing number
from the jungles of Naya. Koyee! The gear is the only piece hidden in
the night. You are Elorian and accustomed to darkness, so that will
be your quest."

She
smiled thinly, staring at the young Elorian.
That's
right, Koyee. You can travel alone this time.

Torin cleared his throat.
"Bailey . . . shouldn't we all discuss this together?"

"No." Bailey shook her
head vigorously. "Those are our quests. We Timandrians have
spent too long in the darkness. For over a year, we haven't seen
daylight, and we're growing pale. We're growing weak. Within
Timandra's armies, they speak of a shadow curse, an illness that
strikes Timandrians who haven't seen the sun in too long. Ferius is
now sending soldiers back every six months, replacing them with fresh
recruits. We've lingered in the dark for too long. Koyee, the only
Elorian in our fellowship, will remain alone in the night. We
Timandrians must return to the sunlight."

They all turned to look at Koyee
. . . all but Bailey. She stared at Torin and saw the pain in his
eyes.

Yes,
it hurts you to part from her, doesn't it?
She
smiled thinly.
Good.
Now you know how I feel. But you belong with me, Winky. We've been
together all our lives, and we will be together again.

Koyee
nodded and pain filled her eyes too. She lowered her head and spoke
in a small voice. "Bailey speaks truth. You're all weary and
pale, suffering from lack of sunlight. We Elorians thrive in the
night, but you need the light of day. I'll travel to the distant
island in the dark, and I'll find the gear. Cam and Linee will seek
the hand in the desert. Torin, you and Bailey can seek the number in
the rainforest. Let us meet at the spring equinox at Cabera Mountain
in the dusk. The Cabera Clock lies broken on its peak."

Bailey closed her eyes, and her
fingertips tingled, and her knees shook.

Home.
I'm going home.

Not
home to Fairwool-by-Night, perhaps. Not even to Arden, her old
kingdom. But she was going back to sunlight—just Torin and her. They
would run through grass again like in their youth. They would lie in
the sunlight and talk of their dreams. They would climb trees, and
she would tease him for being too slow. That to her was home more
than any particular village or kingdom.

She walked toward Torin and
slung her arm around him. She pulled him close and smiled at the
others.

"Again we part three ways,"
Bailey said. "Again the hope of Moth lies upon our shoulders. I
don't know if the Cabera Clock is real. I don't know if we can find
its missing pieces. But if they exist . . . if this is the way to
defeat Ferius . . . we'll find them. I would travel to the very ends
of the earth for a sliver of hope."

And
for you, Torin. And for you.

Cam
and Linee looked at each other, held hands, and nodded. Koyee stared
at them all with strangely blank eyes, and she caressed her arm,
perhaps still feeling the wound Ferius had given her in Pahmey.

The book lay open upon the
table, and when Bailey glanced toward it, it seemed as if the Cabera
Clock—just an old illustration on parchment—was looking at her too,
its dial a single, all-seeing eye.

He sat alone upon Qaelin's
captured throne, gripping the armrests so tightly the gilt cracked.

"She escaped," Ferius
hissed, fingernails digging into the seat. "Koyee has fled . . .
and she knows."

He looked across the throne room
of the Eternal Palace, the great hall he had conquered. Columns rose
in rows, holding a vaulted ceiling. Braziers shaped as wolves, birds,
and fish held burning embers in their mouths, casting red light. A
mosaic spread across the floor, depicting blue dragons coiling around
silver stars. The true blue dragon of Qaelin—the creature
Shenlai—hung from the ceiling on chains, gutted and stuffed, his
eyes replaced with glass balls.

"You lie dead in my hall,"
Ferius said through a clenched jaw, staring at the beast. "Yet
still you haunt me, creature of darkness."

He had ordered his men to slay
the beast. He knew that Shenlai had known of the clock, that the
dragon would reveal his secret with his last breath. His men had
reported seeing the reptile fly out of Yintao, bristly with a hundred
arrows, Koyee upon his back. When Ferius had finally found the
dragon, the creature had lain dead in the wilderness . . . Koyee
gone.

Ferius rose from his throne. He
walked down the hall, boots thudding upon the mosaic. His fists
trembled, and he bit his cheek and tasted blood.

"You
know
,"
he said, voice trembling with rage. "You know of the clock, my
half-sister."

He walked toward the dead
dragon. With a snarl, he grabbed one of the beast's horns and tugged.
The horn came loose into his hands with a sound like ripping leather.
Ferius shouted and drove it forward, stabbing the corpse.

"I will find you, my
wretched beast of a sister. I vow to you. I will find you, Koyee, and
I will hang you here in the hall of your fallen empire, but I will
keep you alive. You will live to scream and weep as I hurt you."

The doors to the hall opened.

A woman's silhouette stood
there, hands on her hips, lamplight behind her.

"Leave this place!"
Ferius shouted and tossed down the horn. "I ordered my guards to
let none enter. Who are you?"

The woman at the doorway—with
the light behind her, he could only see her shadowed form—laughed.

"Having a little tantrum in
the shadows, are you? No guards can hold me back." She took a
step into the hall, revealing a beast that growled behind her, eyes
gleaming. "So this is the mighty Ferius, Lord of Light,
Commander of the Sunlit Hosts . . . throwing a fit like a toddler."

The woman stepped closer, and
the light of braziers fell upon her. She smiled crookedly. She was a
Nayan woman, a daughter of the rainforest; she wore tiger pelts and a
breastplate painted with claws. Wild, fiery curls cascaded from her
head, war paint covered her cheeks, and her eyes shone bright green.
Tattoos of jungle beasts coiled up her arms. She held a spear
bedecked with a string of fangs, and a bow and quiver hung across her
back. A live tiger growled at her side, a chain running from its
collar to the woman's wrist.

"To enter my hall is
death," Ferius said.

The woman snorted. "Not to
me. I am Ishel Who Cuts Bones with Iron, Daughter of Kewana Who
Shatters Stone, Granddaughter of Tihotek Who Feasted on Man Flesh,
Princess of Naya . . . and your betrothed."

Ferius narrowed his eyes,
scrutinizing her. "You are early. Your father, Kewana Who
Shatters Something or Other, promised to deliver you only in the
spring."

She laughed. "When I heard
tales of your might, I traveled early into darkness. Yet now I see a
short, hunched over, bitter man pretending to be a dragon slayer. I
slew soldiers in this battle. Did you hide indoors, stabbing stuffed
animals? Perhaps I should return home to sunlight."

Rage flared in Ferius, emerging
in a growl. He stepped toward her. He was a short man, it was true,
and Ishel—like most people—stood taller than him, but Ferius had
always overcome his short stature with ferocity. He grabbed Ishel's
wrist, digging his fingers into her, and stared into her eyes. He
knew that his stare—hard, cold, and pale blue like forge
fire—unnerved people. His eyes were eerily far set, beady and
gleaming with the hint of danger, eyes small like a Timandrian's but
bright and piercing like an Elorian's.

"You will return to the
rainforest," he said. "You've traveled far into the night,
but I will send you back to sunlight."

She raised an eyebrow, and in
the instant it took her to speak again, Ferius knew that he had
unnerved her, and he smiled thinly.

"Our
people had a pact,
Lord
of Light
."
She spoke his title with scorn. "I am to be your Lady of Light,
to rule Nightside by your side, first among the eight kingdoms of
sunlight. In return, my family—and our people of the
rainforest—will convert to your faith. The banners of Sailith will
rise in Naya, and the banners of Naya will rise in the night. Do you
renege on our deal?" She snorted. "Do you prefer to play at
dragonslaying in your hall, a boy with his toys, or will you honor
our deal and marry a princess of tigers?"

Ferius turned away from her.
"You still stink of the jungle." Leaving her, he walked
across the mosaic, stepped between two columns, and approached a map
that hung upon the wall. The parchment stretched as wide as a boat,
ridged and grooved into the shape of mountains, valleys, and rivers.
It showed all of Mythimna, this world the commoners called Moth. One
landform thrust into the daylight like a white wing, another into the
darkness like a black wing, a world shaped like the duskmoth that
flew in the twilit forests.