Shadows of Moth (6 page)

He looked at Neekeya—her ready
smile, her bright eyes, the goodness that shone from her. Perhaps
Daenor seemed forbidding to him, but Neekeya was beautiful and pure.
He squeezed her palm. "But first we must stop the Radian menace.
We must convince your father and the other lords of Daenor that
Mageria must be fought. Or else these lands might fall as Arden
fell."

A twinge twisted his heart to
think of Arden, his homeland. The memories of its fall still hurt
him—the enemy troops snaking across its roads, the Radian banners
upon Kingswall's towers, and mostly the fear . . . the fear for his
family, for his friends. He did not know if his family had survived.
Would Serin keep the royal family alive, or was Tam the last
survivor? He thoughts of them now—his wise father, King Camlin; his
kind mother, Queen Linee; his twin brother, Prince Omry. Did they
languish now in a Radian prison, did they lie dead in a field, or had
they too fled to foreign lands? Even more than he wanted to free his
homeland, Tam wanted to find his family again. With every breath,
worry for them flared. It had been four months since he had parted
from Madori outside the conquered city of Kingswall; he had heard
nothing of his friends or family since.

Tam closed his eyes, the
memories suddenly too strong to resist.

Catch
me!
little Madori cried, only a child, short and scrawny, her knees
scraped. She laughed and ran through the sunlit gardens, and Tam ran
in pursuit, a mere boy, laughing, his face tanned and freckled, his
world full of joy. His twin, Prince Omry, was stuck in the stuffy
court, heir to Arden, a serious boy groomed to rule. But Tam, a few
minutes younger, laughed as he chased Madori outside. They splashed
through the stream, collected frogs, and finally lay on their backs
in the grass, watching the sky.

That
one looks like a dragon,
Madori said, pointing at a cloud.
I'm
going to ride dragons some turn.

Tam
pointed out another cloud.
That
one looks like a ship! We're going to find our own ship some turn,
Billygoat, and sail far away from here, far away on adventure.

So many summers they had lain
like that in the gardens of Kingswall, dreaming, speaking softly of
the distant lands they'd visit, of all the monsters they'd slay, the
villages they'd save. Her—a girl torn between day and night. Him—a
prince so jealous of his twin, his inheritance stolen by a few
minutes of sleep in the womb.

They had finally gone on their
adventure together, traveling to Teel to become mages . . . yet now
Madori was so far from him. Now this adventure did not seem like much
fun at all. It had been a journey of pain, of bloodshed, of fear and
hunger. And now Madori was gone from him, traveling deep into the
darkness on the other side of Moth.

I
miss you, Billygoat,
he thought.
And
I must find aid here in Daenor. I must or all the night will burn.

He turned back toward Neekeya.
She stared at him, and her face hardened, and her eyes filled with
determination.

"We will find aid,"
Neekeya said. "We've come here to prepare Daenor for war. We
will protect our borders. Daenor will stand."

Hand in hand, they walked
downhill, heading into the swamplands.

When they reached the water, Tam
grimaced. The green, dank soup rose to his knees, thick with moss.
Dragonflies flew around him, frogs trilled upon lily pads, herons
waded between reeds, and he even saw a snake coil across the water.
The mangroves rose around him, twisted like goblins. The air was hot
and thick and filled his lungs like smoke. He wondered how he'd even
walk a hundred yards here, let alone several leagues toward the
pyramids. Neekeya, however, seemed to suffer no mobility problems.
Despite her armor, she bounded from boulder to boulder, log to log,
twisting root to twisting root. Her boots barely touched the water.

"Come on, Tam!" she
said. "It's not a sea. You won't have to swim." She
grinned. "Just hop your way over."

"I don't hop!" he
said. "I'm not a frog."

She shrugged. "Well, you
might not be, but you're wearing one as a hat."

He reached to his head and felt
something slimy. When he pulled it free, the frog hopped away, and
Tam grimaced.

They kept moving through the
bog—Neekeya hopping from log to rock, Tam slogging through the
knee-high water. He made a few attempts to leap like Neekeya, only to
fall face-down into the muck, covering himself with mud, moss, and
peat. The leafy mangrove branches hid the sky, and the song of the
swamp filled his ears: squawking birds, chirping insects, trilling
frogs, and gurgling water. An egret snatched a dragonfly. Snails
perched upon a floating branch. Drops of water gleamed upon countless
spiderwebs. Tall grass and reeds grew upon tussocks, rich with
grasshoppers and toads.

"At least this land would
be a nightmare to invade," Tam muttered as he waded forward,
algae tangling around his legs. "I can't imagine Mageria's
horses and chariots slogging through this."

Neekeya nodded. "I'd like
to see them try. Our soldiers would rain arrows down upon them."
She pointed up at the canopy, then waved. "Hello, boys!"

Tam looked up and lost his
breath.

"Idar's shaggy old beard,"
he muttered.

Several Daenorians perched among
the branches, clad in dark green cloaks and gray tunics. Brown and
green paint covered their faces, and leaves covered their helmets of
boiled leather. They held bows and blowguns, and daggers hung from
their belts. With their camouflage, Tam doubted he'd have noticed
them were they not waving back toward Neekeya. When he looked behind
him, he saw that many other Daenorians filled the trees he had
already walked under.

Neekeya gave Tam a solemn look.
"Daenor is defended." She nodded and gripped the hilt of
her sword. "If Serin invades the swamp, he will find his watery
grave."

Tam stared east across the
marshlands—east toward the distant Teekat Mountains and beyond them
Mageria.

Will
Daenor remain a last island of freedom?
he thought.
Will
all the world fall as Arden fell, and will the night burn, while we
linger here in the mud?
He did not speak these concerns. But he knew:
We
cannot simply hide as evil rises beyond the mountains. We must face
that evil, and we must attack it, or the Radian noose will choke us.

They kept walking, heading east.
The marshlands thickened. The water soon rose to Tam's armpits, and
the mangrove roots twisted everywhere like a lattice. He was forced
to hop forward with Neekeya, jumping from root to log to mossy rock.
After a few spills and bruises, he got the hang of it. Soon, with the
help of dangling vines, he was able to move above the water almost at
normal walking speed. He marveled at how Neekeya, with her heavy
armor, managed the task; he wore only wool and felt clumsier than an
elephant in quicksand.

After hours of traveling, they
reached mossy old ruins. Arches of dark stone rose from the marsh, a
hundred feet tall, like the ribs of a fallen giant. No roof or walls
rose among them, but Tam saw other remnants half-submerged into bogs:
the massive stone head of a statue, large as a boat; an orphaned
archway, its doors long-rotted away; and sunken columns, their
capitals shaped as crocodiles. At first Tam wondered if Serin had
already invaded and lay waste to Daenor's cities, but he quickly
realized that these ruins were thousands of years old.

"Relics of the Ancients,"
Neekeya said. She nodded solemnly. "They were great in magic,
and many of their magical artifacts are still hidden under the bogs.
Now magic is lost to Daenor, but the whispers of our forebears
remain." She whispered a prayer in her language, clasping her
necklace of teeth.

Tam thought back to the history
books he would read in Arden. Like Mageria and Verilon, Arden had
once been part of the Riyonan Empire; all three of those kingdoms,
neighbors north of the Sern and east of the mountains, now spoke
similar dialects and worshiped Idar, the god of sunlight. But Daenor,
this swamp between the mountains and the western coast, had spent
most of its history isolated from the rest of Timandra. Its people
looked different, their skin darker, their frames taller, and they
spoke a different tongue and worshiped older gods. It was said that
even when Riyona herself had been young, Daenor had already been
ancient.

They walked under the mossy
arches, pushing back curtains of vines. They had just emerged from
the ruins when Tam saw the men ahead. He froze and reached for his
dagger.

Magerians,
was his first thought.

A dozen men stood ahead, seeming
as foreign to this swamp as Tam was. When he squinted, he saw that
they bore the banners of Daenor—a black crocodile upon a green
field—but they looked different from any Daenorian he'd ever seen.
Their skin was a lighter brown, and their eyes were green. Their
helmets were not shaped as crocodile jaws or their armor as crocodile
skin; their helmets were simpler, their breastplates unadorned.
Rather than green cloaks and necklaces of teeth, they wore gray
cloaks clasped with silver brooches.

"North Daenorians."
Neekeya froze, reached for her sword, and sneered at the men ahead.
"What are you doing here in the swamps? I thought the south was
too muddy for you fine, fancy folk of the northern plains." She
spat and looked back at Tam. "They think they can bear a
crocodile banner, maybe a little crocodile pin, and be as mighty as
the beasts. They plow fields, live in castles, and look down upon
their southern brothers and sisters."

One of the men stepped forward,
his smile dripping disgust. He was tall and thin, perhaps forty years
old, his black eyebrows plucked to perfect arches, his olive-toned
skin scented of myrrh. Golden filigree shaped as herons bedecked his
breastplate, and a diamond pendant hung from his neck, large as an
acorn. A ruby-studded saber hung from his belt, and sapphires formed
a decorative crocodile upon his shield. Here were pieces of artwork
for display, not for battle.

"Look, friends." The
man pointed at Neekeya. "One of the barbarians. The southerners
are barely more civilized than beasts. It's no wonder the rest of
Timandra sees our kingdom as a cesspool. The southerners are an
embarrassment." His eyes flicked toward Tam. "And what's
this now? A foreigner? You've strayed far from home, pup."

Neekeya
drew her sword. "Out of our way, northerners. You speak to
Neekeya, Daughter of Kee'an, a
latani
of
Denetek
.
My family rules these lands you stand on. Return to your northern
plains or I'll thrust this sword into your guts."

The tall, jeweled man did not
lose his smile. "Land? Your family rules over a puddle. Do you
not recognize me, Neekeya? We met once, many years ago, when you were
just a little beast. I am Felsar, son of King Fehen, Prince of
Daenor. Your lord."

Neekeya
froze and sucked in air with a hiss. Then she seemed to recollect
herself and spat. "Southern Daenor needs no fancy northern
princes. For thousands of years, you minded your business in the
plains, thinking yourself too good for us. You're more like Magerians
than true Daenorians. You have no pride in our land; you only ape the
Old Riyonans east of the mountains.
Denetek
needs no northern prince or king." She shoved her way past him.
"Return north or drown in our mud, but whatever you do, spare me
your prattle. Tam! Come with me. These louts are crocodile food."

She shoved past the men,
elbowing them aside. They scoffed at her, and one spat at her feet,
but Neekeya kept walking. Tam followed, moving between the North
Daenorians. As he crept along a jutting mangrove root, he glanced
more closely at the men, and his breath died. Upon their cloaks they
wore small Radian pins. One of them, a mustached man with one eye,
gave Tam a small nod and smaller smile.

"Tam, hurry up!"
Neekeya shouted.

He looked away from the men and
followed her, leaving the northerners behind and entering thick
brush.

* * * * *

They must have been walking for a
full turn, and they had barely halved the distance toward the
pyramids. When Neekeya looked at Tam, she found him sweaty, wheezing,
and ready to collapse. She sighed. In her eagerness, she had been
driving him too fast. She had forgotten that he'd been raised in
Kingswall, a city of cobbled streets and fancy carriages. While she
hopped easily from rock to root, the journey through the marshlands
had left Tam looking like a dying cat.

She paused upon a tussock of
grass that rose from the water. She stretched out her arms and
yawned.

"I'm so weary I can barely
keep moving," she lied. Of course, she could have easily reached
home on her own by now, and she could easily keep moving for another
turn. But she didn't want to be dragging an exhausted, drowning boy
out of the water, nor did she want to hurt his pride. "I need to
rest and sleep."

He climbed onto the islet and
stood beside her, breathing raggedly. Mud and moss covered him from
head to toe. He managed to nod. "Very well. If you'd like to
rest, I suppose we can."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't
pretend you don't need a rest yourself." She mussed his muddy
hair.

They lay on their backs in the
grass. The frogs trilled around them, the water gurgled, and the
leaves rustled above. Fireflies floated across them, and the hot,
soupy air made their lids heavy. Neekeya had forgotten the richness
of this place—the thick, lush scent of water and leaf, the
languorous heat, the music of the life and water around her. She had
gone to Teel University to learn magic, and now she realized that all
of Daenor was magic; the very air here filled her with wonder.