Blood Moon

Rotten

“What do you mean?” King Michael, questioned King Xanadu.

“The child will make itself known, we do not have to comb the whole continent searching for it. Even newborns will feel it when it rises from its slumber.” King Xanadu spoke ominously.

The sun was starting to sink under the horizon and the reddish glow streaming from the open curtains placed a blood like light on the King’s face, as if showing the truth in his words. King Michael squirmed on his seat.

“The day is coming to an end, King Xanadu. I encourage you to rest in your chambers before the feast. It would be best if we all retire early, you have long journey ahead of you tomorrow.” He smiled gently, his sparkling smiling hiding the contempt burning behind his eyes. King Xanadu’s lips curled upward for a split second before he nodded.

They started to rise from their seats, their servants standing in attention. “You can all retire to the rooms prepared for you, your highnesses. Let my people lead you.” He waved his hand once and the servants that lined outside the door entered, approaching their designated masters.

One after another, the other kings left, followed by their guards. As they left, King Xanadu passed by King Michael’s throne. He halted. King Michael felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

The warrior king leaned over to him. “Your kingdom reeks,” he whispered, smiling as if he was taunting him. “Like it’s rotting from the inside.” His silver eyes darted to the side, looking somewhere outside the palace. King Michael followed his gaze and saw the magic tower. When he looked back at King Xanadu, the man was wearing a mocking look on his face. He gave him a slight nod and proceeded on his way.

The king forced out a warm smile and stared as they retreated outside. As soon as they were out of sight, the fuming king bolted out of his chair, forcibly yanking the door to the terrace open. He was fuming as he stood there, the cool wind doing nothing to calm his temper. The captain stood by the king, mind still wandering to all the things the King of Biringa had said. The eastern king paced, hand running through his hair until he tousled his crown off his head. He halted and faced forward, he rested his hands. The knuckles on King Michael’s hands were white as he gripped the rail tightly.

“Damn that man,” he said through gritted teeth, nose flaring. Even King Ulysses appeared to be eager to do as he says, and having the reputation of a prideful ruler, this helped convince all other kings to play along.  “If the church got rid of him earlier just as I had suggested, we wouldn’t have to deal with him.” he ranted, expecting the captain to agree, but he kept silent.

He turned to see why and saw the captain with an odd expression on his face. His brows were furrowed and his lips slightly curled back. It was as if he was scared of something. “What’s the matter with you?”

He looked as if he was going to deny but the King gave him a stern look. “It’s about the demon child, your highness.” He said slowly, as if every word was poison.

“What do you know of it?”

Beads of sweat appeared on his temples and his breaths were becoming shallow. He was white as a sheet, making the king grow more curious. “Out with it, Captain!”

“I think I met the child, your highness,” he said grimly. “In Leona.”

An hour after the kings were sent to their chambers, the halls was beautifully decorated, the tables lined with scrumptious dishes and delicacies. Barrels of wine were taken out for the feast, minstrels filling up the hall with joyful music. When the kings finally arrived, they were taken to their seats.

All nobles from Carin also attended, including the House of Rayne. As they sat at the table, the conversation led to the disappearance of the youngest. “Duke Rayne, is it true?” one of the local nobles, Duke Sarmiento, called out to him.

“What is?” the Duke responded, keeping a calm demeanor despite knowing what it is he was referring to. “The news about the disappearance of your youngest heir, Knight Augustus?”

On his seat, King Michael’s eyes flared. The topic will lead the other leaders to question his decisions as a fellow king. As he stared at the swollen and reddish face of Duke Sarmiento, he felt the urge to send an assassin on his chambers that night.

Silence reigned for a few seconds, only the clanking of the glasses that the servants were filling could be heard. The duke’s face remained emotionless but then he nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.” Expressions of surprise was heard all throughout the hall, rising above the music.

King Michael offered a smile, his eyes flashing. “I am glad to see that my noblemen are concerned for each other, but rest assured, there will be search parties sent throughout the whole kingdom. Captain is certain that he is alive, but lost.”

“How can you be so sure, your highness?” Duke Sarmiento asked once again. “Wouldn’t it be best if Duke Rayne just anoint another heir?”

“There’s no need to rush the decision, Duke Sarmiento,” Duke Rayne replied in behalf of the King, looking over him for permission to continue. King Michael nodded. “I do not plan on dying anytime soon.” The tone in which he spoke sent a chill down duke Sarmiento’s spine.

As the words left the man’s mouth, Duke Sarmiento was reminded of the Duke’s reputation. Despite the marble floors and pleasant tapestries that decorated the House of Rayne, the family has painted their history with their own blood, and generations after generations of bloodshed has shaped their blood into what it is today. Duke Rayne has acquired his title through underhanded means, striking down anything on his path until he was seated at the top. He had placed himself in a very dangerous position. He smiled shakily, raising his glass. “Of course, a toast for your good health.”

All the other nobles, except for the kings, raised to his toast. As they ate, King Michael found himself taking a glimpse of King Xanadu from time to time. He still had the annoying knowing look on his face which mad his gut burn up in anger. He was studying the room with his unnerving silver eyes, drifting from face to face slyly.

King Michael knows about the sorcery growing within his walls. But no matter how many people he tortures, not one of them spoke. Other than that, the church is barely any help now. He was painfully aware that his kingdom was lacking in powerful witches and warlocks. There was an abundance of them, but none powerful enough to pinpoint where the sorcery is happening. It was a shameful truth, something he doesn’t others to know. But then, here comes King Xanadu.

He could feel the unbearable hate he had for the king coursing through his bones, mingled with the frustration of the knowledge that he won’t be able to do anything about it. He wanted him gone, fast.

The kings retired to their chambers early, settling in for the long journey ahead. All of the rooms had guards stationed at their door, watching over the kings’ safety. All except one. King Xanadu stood by the large window of his room, looking outside. The moon caressed his bare chest and his face, making him appear more frightening than he normally would. He was gazing past the lavish looking walls of the castle and into the magic tower. He inhaled deeply, taking in the air. “Poisoned.” He muttered, smiling sardonically.

His nerves were tingling, every inch of him wanting to get as far away from the castle as possible. The kingdom reeked of sorcery, all flourishing under the king’s nose. “So pathetic.”

He looked over to the bed at center of the room. It was large and soft, anyone would have fallen asleep so soundly if presented with such a luxurious bed, but not him. His body still craved the hardness of the cold floor and the feel of dust and rock underneath him. Years of being on the outside, fighting every single day, has made him that way. He tossed and turned on the blasted thing, but he couldn’t sleep on it. The wood even creaked every time his large body moved, even just an inch, as if it would break. He was growing frustrated. He had a bad feeling for the journey ahead, something was telling him that there’s a chance things will go wrong.

He took a deep breath and started to walk back to bed to force himself to sleep but then he stiffened. He knew that smell all too well. He gripped his necklace closer to his chest and picked up his dagger. There’s something lurking within the castle walls.

He opened his door and looked around. The hallways were empty but he could still catch a whiff of it in the air. He went outside and because there were no guards stationed in his room, he walked with ease. He followed the smell of rotten flesh and it led him to a dark hallway. He tilted his head to the side, staring deep into the dark path. “I can see you.” He said to the darkness.

It was silent for a long time but he stayed there and waited. Finally, from the darkness, one pair of glowing red eyes emerged. “What is a slave doing inside the castle?” A low voice taunted him.

“Why is a sorcerer wearing a witch’s robe?” he asked back. The voice went silent. “I can see you perfectly clear, you abomination.” He continued, his silver eyes flashing. From behind the shadows, the sorcerer emitted a low growl. Then suddenly it snarled and lashed out from the darkness, shadows on her feet following her as she headed for the king’s neck. With one look he could determine that this witch had played around with sorcery and failed. She was mindless. Before her claws could reach him, his hand closed over her throat. Ancient words started to spill from his mouth, his eyes looking back at hers. His other hand covered her mouth as heat started to spread from his fingertips to her body. She tried desperately to get out of his grip as her blood boiled from under her skin. She thrashed and threw her body in every direction but he remained unfazed.

Her skin lit up on her fire but no voice escaped her lips. The fire spread down onto her feet, the flames covering all of her. All the while, her eyes stared back into his and suddenly, she wasn’t certain who the demon is anymore.

The morning came and the carriages lined up in front of the palace, the servants running to and fro, sharp barks of command one after the other. King Michael stood beside his captain, a bright smile plastered on his face like paint.

As they all boarded their carriages, King Xanadu approached him. He stiffened as the man came closer, the same irritating look still worn on his face. “I am thankful that you agreed to continue this meeting despite the fact that it is dangerously near the blood moon. Here’s a gift for you.”

 King Xanadu extended his fist while strongly gripping the other king’s hand and prying it open. From his closed hand, he placed something cool and small on his palm, eyes sparkling as he did so. He nodded to King Michael once, and continued to his carriage.

King Michael looked down to see what it was, he was confused. It was the crest of the magic tower, the one they place on their hoods as recognition that they were part of the King’s army. When he looked back up, King Xanadu’s carriage was already on it way outside. They stayed outside for a moment before King Michael decided to go back, his eyes still on the crest on his hand. As they entered the palace, an ear-splitting scream erupted inside. Without thinking, he ran to the direction of the voice, the captain and his guards following close behind. They turned a corner and entered a hallway, coming across one of the maids who was screaming hysterically as she stared at the floor. When they looked down, they were taken aback.

On the floor was a woman, skin burned to a crisp and mouth stuck open, as if she died in terror. But that was not what scared the maid. The burned woman had claws, and her open and unburned eyes was the dark shade of red. Her face was beastly, large, sharp, and yellowing teeth sticking out her lips. It was a sorcerer.

King Michael’s eyes became unfocused for a second, but then he strode towards the body. From the floor, he yanked away the cloth that was draped over the woman. He took the crest that he held and placed it at the clip on the hood. It fit perfectly. On the back of his mind, he heard a voice. “Here’s a gift for you.”

When she awoke, Luna heard the sound of clashing swords. She bolted upright, picked up her dagger, and went outside as fast as she could. But instead of danger, what she saw was Legosi and Augustus training. Rigel sat on the side, looking mildly interested. She looked up to the sky and was surprised by what she saw. The sun was barely still in the horizon and the roosters were starting to look for a place to sleep.

How long was I asleep?

But despite the time, the both of them were still going at it, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Legosi was on the defense while Augustus sent blows after blows. Legosi’s eyes were sharpened focused, his movements more fluid than how it was when they first crossed swords.

“I think it’s time, are you ready Legosi?” Augustus asked as he backed away a few steps.

“Yes.” he replied, determination clear on his face.

Augustus continued to put a distance in between them, replenishing the spell on his sword. When the sword glowed brightly, he came to position. Whispering under his breath, he braced himself and in one strong movement, sent a wave towards Legosi. It was the same as the one he showed on their first day of training. Legosi took a deep breath, lowered his body slightly, and without hesitation, he met the offense. As the spell clashed with his sword, he was pushed a back, his feet dragging on the soil. But Legosi remained upright, his sword firmly on his grip. Augustus raised one hand and whispered a prayer and suddenly the wave grew stronger, slowly pushing back his sword until Legosi could feel it almost pricking his skin.

He let out a grunt as the force became stronger, his arms going numb. He was slowly losing his strength and it felt as if the sword would slip from his hands in any second. But then, he remembered. Witches and warlocks gain strength from prayers and nature. He closed his eyes, calming himself. He could hear it now, feel it. He said a prayer under his breath, all the while listening to the sound of nature around him. He felt something warm crawl from his foot upwards, coursing through his veins. When the warm feeling came to his arms, he suddenly felt a burst of energy. He took a step forward, pushing back the wave. Augustus was still whispering under his breath, his arms now extended.

Legosi felt the warmth reach his fingertips and a burning sensation sparked on his chest, baring his teeth, he released a guttural cry, and swung his sword. The sword penetrated the wave and in one swipe, the spell burst. Tiny specks of lights its only remnant. He stood there breathing heavily, hair stuck on his forehead from sweat, Augustus in a similar position. “You did well, Legosi. I can’t wait to see you cast that spell.” He complimented him.

Luna started to walk towards them, a questioning look on her face. “How long have I slept and why didn’t anyone wake me?”

“Amalia told us not to, said you needed some rest.” Augustus replied, to which she nodded.

“Anyways, I don’t see why fighting off a fellow warlock’s spell could be beneficial in slaying demons.” She said bluntly.

“Demons are not the only ones he should be concerned about, Luna, you know that.” Augustus replied. “When we fight off the demons on blood moon, word will surely spread like wildfire, whether or not the people are warned not to. There will be gossip, if the palace catches this, they will try and retrieve me and him. It would be best if he knows how to counter any spell sent his way.”

Luna was silent, but then she realized something. “Where’s Amalia?”

Legosi approached the, wiping his sweat with his sleeve as he did so. “I brought her to the chief’s house. I think it would be best if she was somewhere she could be properly taken care of. It’s also better if she isn’t exposed with anything related to death and demons anymore. Thankfully, Ataska was joyfully up to the task.”

“Well that’s good to…” As she was about to reply, howls erupted from within the mountain. It was sudden, making them flinch. The ground started to shake and a acrid smell filled her nostrils. Her heart pounded against her chest as she looked around in disbelief. “This can’t be…”

Then the sky suddenly darkened. She looked up at the sky, hoping her suspicions were wrong. Then they all stared in shock. The sky started to bleed red, thick blood red smoke draped over the horizon, like ink spilled on parchment. The sun faded and they staggered backwards.

“What in the world…” Augustus said under his breath in disbelief.

“The blood moon,” Luna’s eyes were wide in shock. “It has begun.”