Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4) (35 page)

After a long time, she turned
back toward the others. They stood silently, wrapped in their cloaks,
their eyes—large Elorian eyes like hers—gleaming in the shadows of
their hoods.

"It will be a long journey
to the night," she said. "And danger crawls upon this land.
We hoped to find safety behind brick walls; we will seek it in the
shadows. Our road to darkness begins."

She began to walk, leading the
way across the hills and valleys, for they dared not travel by road
or boat behind enemy lines. Jitomi walked behind her, and the others
trailed behind him in single file, slim figures in hoods and robes,
outcasts, far from home.

They traveled as the moon waxed
and waned, buying food in farms, hunting with magic, gathering
mushrooms and berries. Every town they passed displayed the banners
of Radianism, and every road they came across bore the soldiers of
the enemy. They kept walking, hiding between trees, living off the
gifts of the forest. Whenever they rested, Madori thought of those
she loved—of her parents, of Tam and Neekeya, of Headmistress
Egeria, and sometimes the pain was so cold inside her she couldn't
breathe. Jitomi would hold her at those times, stroke her hair, and
kiss her forehead, until she slept in his arms.

Autumn leaves rustled in the
forests when Madori and her companions reached the dusk.

The village of Fairwool-by-Night
lay to their south, Radian banners rising from the library roof.
Madori stood between the trees, squeezing Jitomi's hand, staring upon
her fallen home. A Magerian warship stood tethered at the docks, and
enemy troops marched in the village square, clad in black armor.
Madori's own home, the cottage where she'd been born and raised,
stood enclosed in a new iron fence, its gardens burnt, its roof
displaying an eclipse standard.

Eyes burning, Madori turned
away. She stared east at the great, glowing line of dusk, the border
between day and night.

"Into the darkness,"
she whispered, not trusting herself to speak any louder without
weeping. "Quickly."

She walked between the trees,
heading into that orange glow. The Elorians walked behind her, silent
and grim. Only Jitomi walked at her side, holding her hand tight, and
in his eyes Madori saw his compassion; he knew this was her home, and
he knew her pain.

The sun dipped behind them as
they walked, and shadows stretched across the forest, dark and tall
like ghostly soldiers. With every step the light dimmed, turning a
deep gold, then orange, then bronze. Their eyes glowed in the
darkness, blue lanterns, eyes for seeing in the dark. The trees
withered, thinning out, becoming stunted and weak. Soon the sun
vanished beneath the horizon and they left the last trees behind.
Only sparse grass and moss covered the hills here. Duskmoths rose to
flutter around them, tiny dancers, their left wings white, their
right wings black, creatures torn like the world. One landed on
Madori's hand, and she remembered the duskmoth that had visited her
at Teel University, and she wondered if this was the same one, a
guardian, a soul that cared for her.

They walked on through the
shadows, crested a hill, and there they saw it. The companions froze
and stared.

"The night," Madori
whispered. "Eloria."

The land of her mother rolled
before them, cloaked in shadows. Lifeless black hills rolled into the
distance, and the Inaro River snaked between them, a silver thread.
The moon shone above, a silver crescent, and starlight fell upon
Madori for the first time in a year.

"Eloria," Jitomi
whispered. "Our home."

Your
home,
she thought, looking at him.
Your
home,
she thought, looking at the other Elorians.
Yet
what home is mine? Will I find any more of a home in darkness than I
did in the sunlight?

She kept walking.

They traveled across a valley
and climbed a hill, and there above it loomed: Salai Castle, a pagoda
with three tiers of blue, tiled roofs, the fortress named after
Madori's grandfather. A golden dragon statue stood upon its topmost
roof, and guards stood clad in scale armor at the gates, katanas at
their sides. Their long white hair flowed in the wind, and their blue
eyes gleamed. Below the hill nestled the village of Oshy, its
lanterns bright as the stars, its junk boats floating in the river.

"We'll be safe here,
friends," Madori said, turning toward her companions who stood
upon the hill. "This is where we make our stand. In the
darkness. War will come here too, and the cruelty of Serin will pour
into these lands." She clenched her fists. "And we will
fight it."

The castle doors creaked open. A
gasp sounded. Madori spun around to see a slim figure emerge from
within.

"Madori!"

Koyee rushed toward her, her
white hair streaming, her lavender eyes filling with tears.

Madori's own tears fell, and
suddenly she was trembling, and all the strength she thought she
had—of a warrior, a leader, a mage—vanished like rain into a river,
leaving her only a girl, so afraid, so hurt.

"Mother!"

She ran toward her mother, and
they crashed together in an embrace. Their tears mingled.

"I'm home, Mother,"
Madori whispered. "I'm home."

* * * * *

They rode into the village in the
chill of autumn, their horse's hooves scattering fallen leaves. Upon
his mount, Lord Serin stared around in disgust and spat.

"A backwater," he
said. "A sty. Barely worth the trouble."

His daughter sat beside him upon
a white courser, a furred hood shielding her head from the wind. "Her
home. A place that was dear to her." Lari sneered, turned her
head around, and shouted toward their men. "Burn it! Burn it all
down."

A hundred riders stormed down
the hillside, clad in black steel, visors hiding their faces. Their
banners rose high, streams of red against the gray sky like blood
trailing along a corpse. Their torches crackled, raising columns of
smoke.

"Slay them all!" Serin
shouted. "Loot what you crave and burn the rest!"

The riders thundered between the
cottages of Fairwool-by-Night, torching the thatch roofs. Children
ran across the village square, crying for their mothers, as riders
tore into them with blades. Villagers emerged from homes, the tavern,
and the brick library, begging for life, praising Serin, chanting of
Radian's might.

They begged and they died.

Serin sneered, riding his horse
toward a young woman shielding a boy in her arms. He thrust his
spear, skewering them both. At his side, Lari laughed as she trampled
over a dead man, her courser's hooves snapping bones. Soldiers
stormed into the library, tugged out books, piled them around the
maple tree rising from the village square, and burned them all in a
great pyre.

"Here's her house!"
Lari said, pointing at a cottage. The word "Greenmoat"
appeared upon the door. Lari laughed. "This little chamberpot of
a cottage." She raced inside, then emerged holding a rag
doll—perhaps a toy Madori had once played with. Lari spat. "The
vermin are gone. The mongrel and her mother fled. Of course they
did."

Serin handed her a torch. "Burn
the house. This one is yours."

He watched, pride swelling
within him, as his daughter set fire to the cottage, as the smoke and
flames rose from the home of their enemies.

Blood stained Fairwool-by-Night,
red as the fallen maple leaves. Bodies lay crushed and broken. Homes
and fields burned. The autumn leaves fell upon nothing but death.

Serin withdrew his men to the
hill. They gathered around the old stone watchtower, gazing down at
the flaming ruins. A thin smile stretched across Serin's lips, and he
wiped blood off his sword.

"The nightcrawlers will see
this flame," he said. "The smoke will rise above the dusk,
and the stench of death will carry on the eastward wind. The vermin
are watching, my daughter. I do not doubt that the mongrel is among
them."

He dismounted his horse and
helped Lari dismount as well. They entered the watchtower, climbed
its spiraling staircase, and emerged onto the battlements. A lone boy
stood there, trembling, a youth barely old enough to shave. The lone
survivor of Fairwool-by-Night, he made a clumsy attempt at some last
honor, firing an arrow at Serin. The projectile missed the lord by
two feet.

"Lari?" Serin said,
raising an eyebrow.

She grinned, stepped toward the
trembling boy, and slashed her sword across his belly. He fell,
gasping, dying, his innards spilling.

Serin approached the eastern
battlements and leaned forward between two merlons. Lari came to
stand at his side, the cold wind billowing her hair and reddening her
cheeks. Before them spread the dusk, the shadowy no man's land
separating day from night. And there in the distance they saw it: the
great shadow, the land of endless night. Eloria.

A castle rose in those shadows,
perhaps a league away, a pagoda with three tiers of roofs. As his men
emerged onto the tower top, raising a great Radian banner, Serin
stared toward that pagoda, and he imagined that he was staring into
her eyes.

"Hello, Madori," he
whispered, stroking a merlon as if stroking Madori's head. "Do
you see this fire? Do you smell this death? We will muster here,
mongrel. We will raise an army like the world has never seen. We are
coming for you." He licked his lips and caressed the stump of
his finger—the finger she had removed. "Soon you will burn
too."

Lari leaned against him, and
Serin slung an arm around her. They stood watching the night,
savoring the smell of victory.

The story will continue in . . . 
SHADOWS OF MOTH
The Moth Saga, Book Five
COMING SOON

To learn when
Shadows of Moth
is released, sign up to the Daniel Arenson mailing list (you'll also receive a free ebook as a gift):
DanielArenson.com/MailingList

 

AFTERWORD

Thank you for reading
Daughter of Moth
. I hope you enjoyed this novel.

Want to know when the next book is released? Here are some ways to stay updated:

 * Join my mailing list at:
DanielArenson.com/MailingList

 * Like me on Facebook:
Facebook.com/DanielArenson

 * Follow me on Twitter:
Twitter.com/DanielArenson

And if you have a moment, please review a
Moth
book online. Help other fantasy readers and tell them why you enjoyed reading. And please help spread the word! Lend
Moth
to a friend, talk about
Moth
online, and help others discover these books. You can review the first
Moth
book
here
.

Finally, remember to visit the
Moth
website, where you can find original
Moth
music, artwork, a wiki, and more:
DanielArenson.com/Moth

Thank you again, dear reader, and I hope we meet again between the pages of another book.

Daniel

 

NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON

Standalones:

Firefly Island
(2007)

The Gods of Dream
(2010)

Flaming Dove
(2010)

Misfit Heroes
:

Eye of the Wizard
(2011)

Wand of the Witch
(2012)

Song of Dragons
:

Blood of Requiem
(2011)

Tears of Requiem
(2011)

Light of Requiem
(2011)

Dragonlore
:

A Dawn of Dragonfire
(2012)

A Day of Dragon Blood
(2012)

A Night of Dragon Wings
(2013)

The Dragon War
:

A Legacy of Light
(2013)

A Birthright of Blood
(2013)

A Memory of Fire
(2013)

Dawn of Dragons
:

Requiem's Song
(2014)

Requiem's Hope
(forthcoming)

Requiem's Prayer
(forthcoming)

The Moth Saga
:

Moth
(2013)

Empires of Moth
(2013)

Secrets of Moth
(2014)

Daughter of Moth
(2014)

Shadows of Moth
(forthcoming)

Legacy of Moth
(forthcoming)

 

KEEP IN TOUCH

www.DanielArenson.com

[email protected]

Facebook.com/DanielArenson

Twitter.com/DanielArenson

Other books

Nero's Heirs by Allan Massie
Dawn in Eclipse Bay by Jayne Ann Krentz
Cecily Von Ziegesar by Cum Laude (v5)
Dead Clever by Roderic Jeffries
Her Hollywood Daddy by Renee Rose
Mélusine by Sarah Monette
The Spirit Keeper by K. B. Laugheed
Walking on Water: A Novel by Richard Paul Evans
Destroyer of Light by Rachel Alexander


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024