Read Ten Crescent Moons (Moonquest) Online
Authors: Marilyn Haddrill
She must be
sparing, for she had no idea how long she would need to depend on the few
supplies she had stolen.
After
eating, she risked creating the tiniest of fires by sparking it with two tinder
stones that had been stashed in the pack.
The flame
was more for comfort and light than for warmth, because the night actually was
quite humid and hot in this particular desert terrain below the higher mountains.
Adalginza
removed one of the cross-woven sleeping mats from the saddle pack and unrolled
it by the fire. Then she rolled up a blanket for a pillow, and stretched out to
stare up at the sky.
It was
unusual to have so many waning cycles of the moons on the same night. And
because of the extra darkness, she was treated to a rare view of the infinite stars
in all their sparkling glory.
Very little of
her surroundings could be distinguished in the growing shadows that at first
made Adalginza feel a little uneasy. But gradually she eased into a state of
quiet contentment.
For a woman
who had the gift of mindlink with beasts and birds, there was really very
little to be afraid of in the wilderness. It was like having thousands of
personal sentries keeping watch for her in the darkness.
Almost
unconsciously, she probed the minds around her.
The
predators in this vicinity were all far too small to take more than a passing
interest in creatures as large as the sturmon. And herself.
The larger
beasts, which might ordinarily represent danger, were already asleep in their
dens. Birds of prey had their heads tucked under their wings while they perched
on their roosts or snuggled within their nests.
As for human
intruders, she counted on the alarm she would most certainly sense from the
denizens of the night if any predators of the two-legged variety were to
approach.
Adalginza realized
that, for the first time in her life, Bruna was no longer lurking out there
somewhere. Spying on her. Envying her. Hating her.
And Benfaaro
could no longer devise treacherous plans that his little sister would be
compelled to follow because her very existence depended on him.
Adalginza had
stripped herself completely of the ability to help or harm anyone except
herself.
So this was
freedom.
Realizing
that the eloquently fabricated skirts she had so abused for the entire day were
now ragged and heavy, Adalginza rose to her feet and began to shed the soiled
clothing of the Lady of the House of the Fifth Crescent.
She tiptoed,
barefoot, to the edge of the nearest pool. Looking down, she saw the painted
masque staring back at her.
She
cautiously eased her body down on a rock jutting from the water, and pulled off
a thick, fibrous leaf from a nearby water plant. Then she began to methodically
rub away the thick paint of masque from her face.
Next, she uncoiled
the tightly woven patterns of hair, so much the fashion among the Crescent Houses.
It took many long minutes. But finally the long, thick mass of her tresses hung
loose and unstyled around bare shoulders, tickling her bare skin.
She was a
pretender no more.
Peering down
into the water at her own image vaguely mirrored in the dim moonlight, she was
startled to realize that she had nearly the same appearance she once had as a
child.
On this
night, her olive skin had no blemishes. Fear had departed from her expression,
and her large eyes brimmed with curiosity and possibility.
Was this who
she really was? She didn't know for sure. But she would have plenty of time to
find out, within the solitude of her own company.
She slipped
into the water, and bathed in its tepid warmth. Then she rolled over onto her
back, and swung out her arms in wide arcs, kicking her feet in accompaniment,
to propel herself into the middle of the pool.
She felt her
hair tug behind her, fanning in the water around her face. She stopped and
floated, her ears now covered and deafened to any physical sounds.
She depended
instead on her secret sense, the one that still flitted among the wild animals
that surrounded her. But even her mental vigilance slipped away as her thoughts
strayed into the vicinity of her heart, where an ache lingered.
She deeply
missed Captain Kalos. But now, at least, there was no longer a need for lies.
The captain was
far better off without her. And he would never know what a great favor she had
done him, by removing herself from his life.
As a deep
sense of rightness enveloped her, Adalginza actually dozed off while suspended in
the pond's stillness. Soon she had no perception of the passage of time.
Nonsensical
dreams drifted in and out of her awareness, some of them filled with the face
of Captain Kalos. In one fragmented sequence of visions in her sleep state, night
creatures scattered from the captain's approach. Their panic invaded her senses
and she saw him through their eyes in the pale moonlight.
Crescent
sword in hand, he stood upon the rock where she had sat earlier, cleansing her
face. Then, finally, the realization seeped through into her consciousness that
this was no dream.
Adalginza
pulled herself up instantly, splashing water like a drowning arroyrat. She
almost sank to the bottom of the pond until she regained the presence of mind
to control the stroking of her arms and propel herself into the shallows
opposite him.
She thought
about standing up and running. But this would be unseemly in her current state.
She stayed low in the water, not knowing what next to do.
"Do not
bother to run," the captain said gruffly. "I would not hesitate to
throw my dagger."
"You
cannot be here," she said in a dazed voice. "This is not possible."
The captain
laid the Crescent sword aside and eased himself down upon the rock. In fierce
motions that demonstrated his fury, he began to yank off boots that were gouged
and torn.
Adalginza could
see a gaping tear in his tunic, where blood oozed from his shoulder. As he
warily watched her, he maneuvered his feet until they dangled in the water.
She could
scarcely believe what she was seeing. "You
walked
all this
way?"
"My
feet ache like two slabs of meat, beaten into tenderness and ready for the
roasting." Captain Kalos reached for the Crescent sword and placed it in a
symbolic position of readiness across his lap. "And never have I ever been
forced to defend myself against a snake while armed only with a short dagger. Always
in the past, my Crescent sword has been at my side in readiness for battle.
But
I had no sword.
"
"You
found the snake, hiding on the trail." Adalginza was horrified.
"No.
The snake found me. Much to its regret. I was in a very foul mood."
The captain
eyed the bundle of clothes that Adalginza had shed next to the water. He picked
up a delicate underthing, gingerly put it back down and then gazed at her with
unabashed curiosity.
Adalginza self-consciously
sank farther into the water. "You must be very fleet of foot to catch up
with me the way you did."
"Only
when I am extraordinarily inspired." He continued to glare at her. "You
stole my favorite sturmon. You stole my sword. What did you expect me to do?
Meekly return to my knights, and tell them that a woman had bettered their
captain?"
"You
would rather die than admit that?"
"My
rank would have been stripped from me. I could never again sit at the banquet
tables in any of the royal courts of the Prime Continent, because my reputation
would precede me. I would be the subject of considerable mirth. The name of my
clan would be ruined. I had no choice but to go after you."
In the back
of her mind, Adalginza was trying to think of a way to escape. But, in the
meantime, she knew it was best to keep him talking. At least the captain seemed
less inclined now to murder her on the spot.
"I am
truly sorry. Had I known, I would have left you the sword. And the Golden, if I
could have found another sturmon. My only thought was for escape."
"Escape
from what?" Kalos asked, sounding exasperated. "From me?"
Adalginza
took a deep breath. "Yes."
"You
are lying, as usual." Kalos appeared thoughtful. "I found it most
peculiar on this morn when I arose early only to discover that you had already
prepared our mounts. And you had done so behind the screen of the suckleberry
thickets."
"You
were suspicious of me? Why?"
"Why,
indeed?" Kalos was entirely too adept at sarcasm. "You are obviously
an expert with the sturmons and their gear, yet you had adjusted the stirrups
on my Golden incorrectly — short enough for you, but not even close to a good
fit for me."
"Oh."
"I
should have seen then that you had no intention of going anywhere with me. You
had prepared the sturmons — the two fastest — for yourself and another. Based
on the length of the stirrups on the other sturmon, I would say the other was a
child. Whose child? Yours?"
She gave him
her most evasive smile. "You are far too wise for me, captain."
"By the
saints, woman! I do not want you to agree with me for reasons of your own. I
want you to tell me the truth!"
"The
child is Benfaaro's." The truth, out of context, can be as piercing as an
arrow shot with true aim toward its rightful target.
The captain
looked stricken. "Benfaaro is the father of your child?"
Adalginza said
nothing.
"No.
You are too young." Kalos was thinking out loud. "You are no older
than twenty one seasons, by your own admission. A child born from you must be
old enough to ride on its own sturmon, for your plan to work. The child would
need to be at least five or six seasons old. I suppose it is possible...unless,
of course, you are lying. This is even more possible."
"Or,"
Adalginza suggested helpfully. "I could be mad. Like my mother, Lady
Donzala."
"Or you
could be intent on driving me even madder than Lady Donzala."
All
conversation ceased. And Adalginza realized that the captain was watching her
far too intently.
"Indeed,
there must be madness everywhere on this night," he muttered to himself. "I
should truss you up like the thief you are, and bring you home in disgrace. I
could throw you in prison, and claim all your holdings for what you have done."
"Yes.
You could."
"But I will
not."
"What
will you do instead?" Adalginza asked softly.
He stood
slowly then, and carefully laid the sword aside. He began to slowly untie the
tunic covering his chest. The pale light of the few moons that now peered
discreetly from the far horizon glowed from his bare skin.
"The
water is as reflective as a mirror, lady. You have nothing left to conceal,
that I have not already seen," he said softly.
He picked up
the Crescent sword and held it high above his head.
"I must
first have your consent. It is the law of my House."
Adalginza's
people, the savages, believed that the Crescent Moons carried within them a
myriad of enchantments, depending on the many configurations they took as they
danced together through the night sky.
It was even
said that the moons could compel a person to lunacy, if time and circumstances
meshed with exactly the right patterns of the waxing and waning orbs.
Adalginza
did, indeed, believe that something outside of herself had taken over her mind.
And perhaps even her spirit.
"Captain,"
she replied with a voice she barely recognized as her own. "You may enter
this water with me only if you promise, backed by the very essence of your being,
that the two of us will remain here, together, until only death shall part us."
"You wish
to be with me forever?" Kalos asked in a hushed tone. His hands were still
high above his head, clutching the sword. Sweat was beginning to trickle down
his arms and his chest.
"Unto
death, at least," Adalginza said. "I cannot promise forever."
"I can."
With his
right hand, Kalos impulsively aimed the tip of the sword into the ground, and
began marking intricate patterns that made no sense to Adalginza. Then he
stabbed the sword into the center of the large circle.
"It is
done. The promise is made. And sealed."
He splashed
into the water, not with grace but with ardor. Finally, they were spent when only
a few pale slivers of crescent moons lingered in the sky.
But by the
time daylight broke on the far horizon, the magic had waned along with the
mystical power of the moons.
Adalginza
now was outstretched on a blanket, face-to-face with a man whose dark eyes now
seemed very troubled as they gazed back at her through thick lashes.