Moonlit Passions

Chapter 2

Many Reflections

In the heat of his passion Kirder knew no restraint. He burst forth into Horstman's quarters, penetrating the stiff door with ease. The hinges squeaked in protest. Evidently they required lubrication.

Horstman yelled and leapt back, clutching the towel protectively around him, although it could not cover the entirety of his luminescent torso. Those silvery eyes were wide and startled, the silky hair dishevelled.

"Cheat, would you?" said Kirder, breathing hard, "I knew you would resort to dirty tactics."

"How dare you!" Hissed Horstman, his pale c****s flushing a beautifully delicate rosy pink and his silver eyes glinting, "you break and enter the private quarters of your superiors?" He flicked his hand in a gesture that Kirder knew to be an invocation of magic – whatever the magic was that had gathered in the crystal sphere. Kirder stood ready for action… but nothing happened. Horstman gritted his teeth and shook his head, his gleaming hair rippling, but to no avail.

"You can't draw forth the power! You don't have the stamina to make it come forth and cast everything in a white sheen," jeered Kirder. He couldn't help but feel relieved. Horstman was really not a manlier man than he himself was. "You are no mage and social status means nothing to me."

"You say that and yet you would gladly fawn and scrape before the Lady Bellatores. Her lurid complexion means nothing to you as long as she has land and wealth." Horstman's sneer sat so ill upon his fine features.

Kirder felt his anger harden and rise up again. "You dare insult her? Cassie is a wonderful woman and would never act underhanded as you do. Even if she had no social status, she would still have my fullest respect. Unless you retract your statement, I will make you pay for it and never mind the consequences."

Horstman gave a little gasp and sat down suddenly in the corner, his silvery eyes wide with fear, his finely sculpted face pale as virgin snow. He wrapped the towel defensively around his nether regions. The lunar glow of the lamp illuminated his slender pale form huddled in against the wall. Really there was no point in pursuing any vendetta with this snivelling coward. This was a side to him that Kirder was gratified to see.

"Oh just keep a civil tongue in your head in future," said Kirder heavily. "Fret not, I care nothing if you try and cheat when competing with me. But insult Cassie again and risk my wrath."

"There is- there is something you should know. You want to show off in the combat tournament I know," said Horstman, his voice shaking, "well I cannot fight… but the Lady Cassandra always wins that tournament. She is the greatest mage in the kingdom despite her youth. You could beat me, but you cannot win against her."

"It would be an honour to lose against such a worthy opponent. Ithric might have scorn for me for this, but I don't consider winning to be everything. Might I say that no one wears cowardice as well as you do." It was true. Horstman's nostrils were flared and his whole demeanour had changed to that of one of the verge of hysteria. And yet he was slumped there helpless against the wall. He had never appeared so intriguing. Cowardice would appear such an ugly fault in anyone else. "Just remember my warning and I will leave it at that."

Kirder left and later that night as he slept he dreamed not of his victory, but of the mystery of Horstman's apparent cowardice and submissiveness. What could it all mean?

The next morning Kirder broke his fast at the crescent table in the Hall of the Moon. Horstman was sitting some distance away resolutely ignoring him, but Kirder was not fooled. Clearly Kirder must be weighing on his feeble mind. The silver-blond hair was more brushed than Kirder had previously seen and reflected the early morning sunshine that streamed through the high windows…

"Did you not hear what I said?" came the piercing voice of the noble lady beside him, "are you just going to ogle poor Horstman like a drunkard? Ooh…" she finished with a little gasp.

There was some murmuring and shifting of seats and the seated aristocracy began to rise to their feet. Kirder turned to see what the distraction was and lo and behold, there was Cassie. Today she was clad in an ornate black dress in which gleaming moonstones were woven. The rays of the autumn sunshine glinted off her red hair and her yellow-green face seemed to shine as she beamed the members of the lesser nobility. She swept over to him and needing no cue, he hugged her quickly and then let her speak.

"I request an audience with you immediately, worthy musician," she said in a stiff, formal voice. He inclined his head and they left the hall. Once outside she dropped the formal act. "I understand you're going to take part in the Tournament, Kirder," she said, "you must be aware that it is a contest with real dangers."

Cassie certainly didn't miss anything.

"Indeed it is dangerous, but Ithric is insistent that I try it," he replied, "he is convinced that I should build up all facets of my reputation regardless of the risks."

Cassie frowned for a brief moment and brushed her fiery hair away from her face. "I have participated in the contest before, but this time I will not. I always win and it has become tedious." Her voice quivered slightly. "But I have to be blunt." She swallowed and wrung her hands.

"Be blunt Cassie," he said softly.

"I fear for you, my friend." She gazed up at him, brown eyes unblinking. "You must be well prepared. Come to my quarters."

Kirder followed Cassie to the tallest tower of the castle. They travelled up an ornately carved marble staircase into a richly furnished room. Kirder looked around with interest. Here was not mere guest room. The sofa gleamed silver and the tapestries that depicted the kingdom's supernatural history were so detailed that they made the tapestry in Ithric's hall seem like a stick drawing in the dirt by comparison. A curious angular crystal rested on a solid silver tripod. It glowed with a faint radiance all of its own. So it was a magical receptacle, like Horstman had, specifically for the bright, white substance.

Cassie smiled as she noticed his interest. "That is indeed a magical instrument, but unlike Horstman, I know how to use them. I call it my starlight strainer. It is almost full."

"You would have been a most worthy opponent, Cassie, if you had deigned to enter the tournament," said Kirder, "indeed, I could not have prevailed against anyone proficient in the mystic arts. I admire your dedication to them, despite the dangers involved. Your bravery should be held up as an inspiration to many."

They sat on the silver couch together. Cassie poured an emerald green tea into a pair of golden goblets. It was rich, warm and refreshing. Kirder began to feel more relaxed. Thoughts of Horstman could not agitate him so much in comfortable surroundings. Cassie slipped her arm through his. "The first test of my bravery was having to tell my mother I had experimented with dragon's blood and was doomed to wear this look." She tapped the tip of her shiny green nose and gave a wry smile. "But please listen to me when I tell you that you have enough to worry about in the coming tournament. I am ill at ease that Ithric entered you for it."

"This is nothing, dear Cassie. When I was a mere boy of ten he sent me on a treasure hunt in the desert." Cassie looked at him sharply. "I had only the advice of his captured demonic servant to guide me. It was a miracle that I avoided the dragons and other fell beasts."

Cassie was breathing hard. Letting that slip had affected her it seemed, but how...? Her bright brown eyes were beginning to shimmer as though with tears. He clasped one of her slender green hands in both of his. "When I am eighteen I will be a man in my own right and no longer under his direction. I am excited as to what the future may hold."

Cassie had a faraway look in her brown eyes. She began to murmur in a sing song voice, "Ithric, Ithric, how low could you sink…" Kirder was uneasy. He knew little of magic, but surely it was ominous for a mage to start chanting?

"Listen, context is important. I should tell the whole story so as not to do him a disservice." She gazed up at him in expectation.

He began to relate his past.

"You know of the night, twelve years ago, when Sschlangg, the demon of the desert rose again, this time to despoil our kingdom. He arose from the darkness and fire far to the west and rained down destruction on the desert guard who manned the westernmost outpost of the kingdom. A wandering swordsman happened to arrive at that moment. Ithric - a warrior without peer and a servant of the Moon goddess. He infiltrated the fiend's camp and captured Sschlangg's much abused demon slave, binding him to his service. He then duelled Sschlangg himself, in the name of the Moon. It would have seemed that he could not prevail against such a foe, but the Moon goddess intervened. There was a blazing silver light and the demonic host scattered in disarray. The Moon goddess herself came down and said that the kingdom would be spared – the gods would give them another chance and the swordsman, the great warrior Ithric was their champion. She banished Sschlangg back to the farthest reaches of the desert. For the time being, he is held at bay.

"That is how Ithric came to the kingdom. And as a further challenge, the goddess set her champion the task of raising me – an orphan whose parents were members of the decimated western guard. Her intent will become clear when I become eighteen.

"Since that time I have been raised by Ithric and the lesser demon he captured. That demon forfeited his demonic title. Ithric renamed him Tek. It was Tek who brought me here. He can check up on me at any moment. He could even do so right now."

Sure enough, at that very moment there was a rap on the window pane. There was the sound of beating wings outside. A strange, vivid blue face was looking in. The face had startlingly large, bulging yellow eyes with slits for pupils like a cat's.

"And here he is," supplied Kirder.

A small smile playing around her dark green lips, Cassie stood and unfastened the windows, throwing them aside. "Do come in, Tek. We are honoured at this unexpected visit."

"Many thanks, most noble lady," said Tek. His voice was curiously high pitched. He swooped into the room and alighted on the carpet. He folded his great bat like wings and they seemed to disappear. Ithric made him wear a restrictive garment of dark leather to show his servitude, but it didn't seem to prevent his flying. He was holding a bundle wrapped in cloth in his talons. He turned his golden eyes on Kirder.

"I thought you might want your armour, master Kirder," he unwrapped the bundle and revealed a suit of shining white armour, "for the tournament tomorrow."

"Asterion armour?" Cassie leaned forward to examine it and the sunlight reflecting off the pristine metal lit up her vibrant face.

"Master Kirder won it – he defeated a ruthless bandit in single combat even though the rogue had this magnificently crafted armour. I was against My Liege Lord Ithric sending him off on such a mission, but the valiant boy prevailed." Tek's strident voice trilled with pride.

"Every time you express your concern his reply is always 'stop flapping and stop faffing,'" said Kirder, mimicking Ithric's gruff voice.

"What a charmer," said Cassie, "it is astonishing that Kirder has such impeccable manners with that tough old dog as his mentor."

"Master's strength is on the battlefield. Those are the accepted terms for heroism," said Tek, shifting a little on his clawed feet as he always did when uneasy.

Kirder was beginning to form a plan.

"Listen Tek, I suspect that Horstman is plotting against me, but now you're here, we can spy on him…"

"Oh Kirder, you must focus," said Cassie, shaking her head. "That pathetic backbiter isn't worth your time or energy. We've got to get you through the tournament alive."

Well there was a change in tune for her. She no longer thought he should trail Horstman? And now Horstman was a pathetic backbiter? What could she have seen or heard since last night to change her mind about the two of them?

"The lady does have a point," said Tek cautiously.

But in his mind's eye Horstman's sneering face seemed to rear up and block out all else. His friend's meant well, but could he accept their counsel?