Chapter One

 

 

 

Brianna paused at the top of the steep track scarcely long enough to catch her breath and check that the anjoa fruit had survived her hurried climb intact. A sense of pride flashed through her as she lifted the concealing cloth. The two oval fruit were the biggest and most beautiful specimens she had ever seen. The green skin of both was smooth and shiny—not a blemish in sight. They would be her offering for the Luna Goddess’ table in the temple tomorrow night.

With reverent care, Brianna covered them again, and clutching the wicker basket close to her chest, she hurried through the orchard.

A sharp slice of stinging pain cut across her ankle. Her foot jerked out from under her and she toppled forward, the basket flying out of her grip. Her face slammed into the dirt. The air in her lungs rushed out with the impact.

“Oww,” she croaked as she lifted her head and gasped for air.

Her basket rested on its side only inches in front of her, but both of her anjoa fruit had rolled away. “No,” she cried and pushed herself to her knees as the biggest wobbled across the last inches of grass and slammed into the rock cairn marking the border of the orchard. It split open, the sweet red flesh torn into ragged chunks, juice and black seeds splattering the grass in a wide circle.

“My offering, oh my beautiful offering,” Brianna howled as tears blurred her vision.

Somebody snickered. She turned toward the sound. Conal stood legs apart, arms crossed. At his feet lay the second anjoa fruit, still intact. Behind him waited the four boys who made up his bevy—the rich kids, Tobin, Kedem, Fabron and Rayan.

“Bit clumsy, Brianna,” Conal said, a smirk twisting his mouth.

She climbed to her feet. One ankle was entangled in a grubby piece of rope. Unease stabbed through her.

“Well, I still have one,” she replied, stepping forward to retrieve the fruit.

Conal rested his foot on it, very gently. “No you don’t.”

“Yes I do, Conal. Give it to me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because it’s mine. I brought them all the way from the forest,” Brianna replied.

Conal scowled in the direction of the smashed fruit. “But you didn’t take care of your gift for the Luna Godess, did you?”

“I would have, if you hadn’t tripped me,” she shouted, flinging the rope in his direction.

“Ha ha, don’t blame me for your big clumsy peasant feet.”

Rage burned a fiery path through her veins, melting her self-control into stinging sparks inside her gut. She glared at Conal. “Give it back,” she said.

“I don’t think so, peasant. The boys and I will take the surviving anjoa to the temple. Clearly you can’t be trusted with the task,” Conal scoffed.

A searing pain wrenched inside her, as if something had broken. She winced but kept her gaze on Conal, trying desperately to hold down the tight pressure threatening to overcome her. “Give it back,” she bit out between clenched teeth. Something was wrong. A writhing, spiny ball of wrath twisted her stomach and she could hardly breathe.

Conal slowly bent down and scooped up the anjoa fruit. He cradled it in his arms and stared at her. “You appear mighty mad and all red in the face, Brianna. But you can’t make me give it back.”

His taunt stoked her rage. Brianna gasped at the painful implosion as her gut twisted, her lungs compacted and her hands sizzled and flexed with lives of their own. She trembled in a desperate attempt to hold the seething fury inside, but it was too big for her, rampaging with uncontrolled violence. Oh raving hojaks, what was happening to her? The power built until without warning it spurted from her clenched fists in a shimmering, pulsing stream that sprayed directly at the jeering boy.

The translucent force hit Conal in the chest, lifted him off the ground, threw him backward then dumped him on his knees in the dust. The anjoa fruit jumped out of his grip and floated in the air, twisting and turning several times before it landed with a soft plop by Brianna’s shoes.

The four boys gaped as Conal very cautiously climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. The energy drained out of Brianna as she stared aghast at Conal. Oh moonbeams, had she done that?

“Run. Everyone run. Brianna’s bedeviled by a Tyban. Run for your lives,” Conal yelled.

The five boys fled, their screams piercing the air in terror-stricken gashes.

Brianna stood frozen, uncertainty swept over her in undulating waves and she swallowed hard on the surge of nausea that swirled in her stomach. She sagged onto a tree stump and covered her face with her hands. Oh fiery moonlight, moonbeams and luna darkness. What was wrong with her? Bedeviled? Oh dear Luna Goddess, no. Tremors raged through her. Her teeth clattered and she was so cold. The anjoa fruit she had fought to recover sat forgotten at her feet as she hunched protectively in on herself.

A light touch on her shoulder was enough to manifest her terror. She screeched and spun around, ready to defend herself.

“Mam,” she cried. “Thank the moons.”

“Come away into the house, daughter. There has been enough spectacle today to set tongues wagging from here to Okiyarra.”

“I’m not bedeviled, am I, Mam? Is it a Tyban?”

Her mother’s grip on her shoulders, urging her toward the house, was forceful.

“No, Brianna, it’s not a Tyban.”

“But something happened… I felled Conal. I was so angry and it just happened.”

“I know.”

“But how…? What?” Brianna wailed.

Her mother guided her through the doorway and slammed the door shut. “I know, Brianna, because I’ve been expecting it.”

Brianna pushed away from her mother and looked up into her eyes. What she saw reflected there ballooned her uneasiness into real terror. “Expecting what?”

“Sit, Brianna, and I will explain.”

“You’re scaring me,” Brianna whimpered as she sagged into the nearest chair.

Her mother’s expression was grim, her face unusually pale as she wrung her hands in the folds of her apron. “I hadn’t expected to be doing this alone and I’m scared too, my dear daughter. There are things you do not know and you should have been told well before this happened, and I’ve been afraid this would happen. If only your father had come.”

“Then wait for Da to come.”

Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes before spilling onto her pale cheeks. “I didn’t mean Lek, but your life-force father.”

Brianna jerked back, her mother’s words like a sharp slap to her cheek. “Life-force father? But you have never said…”

“No, I was forbidden, and now this…”

“This?” Brianna echoed.

“You’re coming into your gift—one I’d hoped you would not inherit.”

Brianna leaped out of the chair. “No. Don’t say it, Mam. Do not say I’m Abrasaxon.”

“I’m sorry, my daughter, but you are—well, half anyway. Your father is Abrasaxon, and I loved him very much.”

“You loved him, but what about me—left to deal with a half-breed life, not one or the other? The Abrasaxon won’t want me and the mortals will be terrified. What do I do now?” Brianna snarled.

“You can calm yourself for a start,” her mother admonished. “Being part Abrasaxon is not a tragedy.”

Brianna glared at her mother, infuriated by her unsympathetic response. “I don’t want to be Abrasaxon, Mam, and why didn’t you tell me before? You waited until something happened, that’s not fair.”

“No, Brianna, it’s not fair, but… Well, I had hoped you would not inherit your father’s skills because then no explanation would’ve been necessary.”

“Really? You were going to let me simply go on living in ignorance of who I really am? And what of my precious life-force father, where is he in all this deception?”

Her mother frowned. “There is much to explain, but first I must get permission.”

“Permission from whom? Whose business is this? Only yours and mine surely?” Brianna said.

“Yes, Brianna, it is about you, but not just you. There are others involved here—to some extent the whole village.”

“Send the village to the moons for all I care,” Brianna cried. “How’re you going to fix this for me, Mother?”

They both flinched at the loud peremptory rap on the door. As they turned toward the sound, the door crashed open.

“Katrina, you are summoned to the temple. Bring your daughter with you. Tennille seeks an audience immediately,” the tall, black-haired woman announced.

Katrina bowed her head in acquiescence. “I knew she would, Alicia. We will come now. It is time to get this over with.”

“I don’t want to go to the temple. You’re the one who owes me an explanation, Mother. It has nothing to do with the priestesses.”

Alicia frowned. “You should’ve taught your daughter more discipline, Katrina, for she will need it now.”

Katrina sighed. “She’s confused, Alicia. Angry and rightly so. She should have been told.”

“Tennille only did what was best, Katrina. Besides, it’s too late now. Come, they’re waiting.” Alicia indicated the open door.

“Not before I get an explanation,” Brianna protested, desperate for reassurance as her secure world disintegrated around her.

Her mother shook her head. “Don’t argue, Brianna, just obey. We need to go to the temple. This matter is now out of my hands.”

Buffeted by apprehension but refusing to crumple, Brianna drew on her anger. She glared at her mother, then over her shoulder at the dark-haired priestess.

“What has it got to do with Tennille, or any of them?”

Alicia’s frown deepened. “It concerns us because your presence in this village leaves everyone at risk. Now obey the head priestess’ summons,” she snapped, waving her hand in the direction of the open door.

Chills flickered through Brianna. I’m endangering the whole village. Surely they don’t blame me for my unfortunate parentage. She flashed one more savage glance at her mother before she stomped outside, crossed the now deserted square and began the slow climb up the path to the temple, acutely aware of the two women trudging silently behind her.

Nobody spoke until they entered the temple.

“Wait by the altar, Brianna, until you’re called. You’re forbidden to leave the temple,” Alicia instructed with an impatient sternness. “Come, Katrina,” she said and walked away.

Without another word Brianna’s mother followed Alicia to the priestesses’ dressing room.

Brianna sank onto a small stool at the side of the altar. She clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to ignore their trembling and the swish of nervous fear in her stomach. Did her da know she was a half-breed? He was the only father she had ever known and she shivered at the thought of his rejection. Weighed down by pitiful thoughts, she didn’t lift her head until she heard the dressing room door open.

The air was thick with secrecy and expectation as the five priestesses filed past the temple altar, their heads bowed and hands concealed in the flowing sleeves of their red robes. Only one spared her a glance—her mother. A furtive, anguished glance that speared dread and uncertainty right into Brianna’s heart. For the first time in her life, she felt very alone and afraid for her future.

The impulse to flee was strong, but there was nowhere to go and no one to go to, so she forced herself to be still around the turmoil roiling inside her—to wait with some semblance of obedience.

The oppressive, cloying stillness of the temple wrapped around her as she surveyed the offerings to the Luna Goddess, all the time her ears attuned to any sound from the rear of the temple. Bored with waiting, she amused herself by arranging, and rearranging, the offerings, but as the distraction waned she slumped back on the stool, not moving until she heard hurried footsteps and the rustle of heavy robes coming toward her. She stood in fearful anticipation.

Her mother emerged from the gloom. “A decision has been made, Brianna. Please join us in the preparation room.”

“What decision, Mam?”

Her mother shook her head, her expression frozen into a gray mask of resignation. “Come, daughter.”

Brianna grabbed her mother’s arm. “Mam, please?”

Her mother patted her hand. “I’m sorry, Brianna,” she said, and turned to lead the way down the dark, narrow passage to the priestesses’ preparation room.

Brianna’s heart beat a frantic tattoo. She was acutely aware that the woman walking in front of her, at this moment, was a priestess, not her mother. A sense of abandonment ran coldly through her, over her heart and deep into her soul as the comprehension materialized—her mother could not, or would not, save her from what was to come.

The five priestesses sat behind a huge curved table that dominated the space. Her mother took her place beside the women. Brianna stood alone in the middle of the room, abandoned by the one person she trusted to protect her, and felt powerless to ward off whatever decision these influential women had made.

“Brianna, daughter of Katrina, it has been decided that after the ceremony tomorrow night you will be inducted into the Circle of Fledglings. Your training as an initiate priestess will begin immediately.” Tennille’s voice rang with a sharp edge of authority.

The world spun. The gloom closed in. She dragged in a deep breath and stared straight at her mother. Brianna saw the anguish in her eyes, but was still shocked when her mother made no move to dispute the head priestess’s, Tennille’s, mandate.

Brianna sighed then contemplated the head priestess. “I should have two full cycle rotations yet before I’m inducted… You are stealing my childhood and ignoring my plans to join the Watchers for one rotation—to benefit society.”

“Brianna, daughter of Katrina, it has been decided. The matter is closed,” Tennille snapped.

“No! It is an unfair decision that will have serious consequences for me. I am entitled to know why such a decision has been made. Is it because I’m not a true mortal? Is this why you intend to punish me?” Brianna wailed.

The six women glanced at one another. Brianna stared directly at her mother. Her mother lowered her eyes, but despite her averted gaze Brianna could see the tears that clung to her cheeks.

“You are not entitled to anything, Brianna, but for the sake of future goodwill, I will enlighten you. Unless, Katrina, you wish to?” Tennille did not even glance toward the woman as she spoke.

Her mother peered down at her hands clenched in her lap. It was the slightest of movements but it effectively abdicated her responsibility to her daughter.

Anger sparked to life. Fury fed by confusion and a raw sense of betrayal. “Mam, what is going on here? Tell me, please. Surely for such extremes it must be more than the fact that I’m a half-breed?”

“I can’t…” her mother whispered. Her voice cracked into tiny inhuman sounds as she fought to control her sobs.

“Brianna, this decision has been made with your wellbeing in mind, and you needn’t give me the evil eye, young lady,” the head priestess scolded.

Brianna continued to glare openly at Tennille, despite the priestess’s admonishment.

Tennille held up her hands as if to ward off an attack. “We are all aware, Brianna, of the training in weaponry and hand-to-hand combat you have procured for yourself from those who would give it, and we are all aware that your intention was to join the Watchers. Unfortunately this is not an option for you. Your parentage makes you vulnerable, and the only way we see to protect you is to enclose you in the priestesses’ retreat until your father’s return.”

“You’re going to lock me up because by chance my father was some stray Abrasaxon? As far as I’m concerned I have one father—Lek of Tash. Not a true life-force one maybe, but the only one I’ll acknowledge.” Seething with resentment, Brianna turned again to her mother, but she had covered her face with her hands and the rise and fall of her shoulders told Brianna she was sobbing.

“You do have a life-force father, Brianna, and he is not merely any Abrasaxon. Your mother wanted to tell you about your father as soon as you were of an age to understand, but we forbade it.” Tennille’s voice had softened a little.

“You forbade it?” Brianna retorted in hostile disbelief.

“We felt it was safer. If you didn’t know the truth you couldn’t accidently reveal it to those who would’ve kidnapped you or taken your life because of your connections.” Tennille sat forward, her hands held out in a placating gesture.

“And my life-force father is?”

“Your father is Hakon, the Grand Archon of Okana,” Tennille said softly.

Brianna’s whole body trembled and her legs turned to mush. She hit the floor with a thud. For a moment a hazy gray fog enveloped her mind, cushioning it from the brutal shock of Tennille’s revelation. She struggled to stay in the now even as she felt the hard floor give way to gentle hands helping her to rise, and slip into a chair before cool water was forced between her lips.

“No, this cannot be true,” she muttered. “I am only me, Brianna, daughter of Katrina and stepdaughter of Lek. Mother? Mam, tell me it’s not true. Tell me I’m not the daughter of the Grand Archon. Tell me I’m just ordinary, just an ordinary half-breed of no importance.”

Even as she asked, she could see her mother’s tear-stained face shaking from side to side in denial—denial that her daughter was merely an ordinary half-breed of no importance.

An irate ball of emotion exploded inside her—rage, terror, self-loathing, fear and pain. She slapped at the women around her. The container of water flew across the room and the women retreated when Brianna began to yell.

“Did you make covenant with this Abrasaxon? Am I blessed?”

Her mother nodded. “We made covenant before you were born and we unbound before he left. You were but a babe.”

“Get away from me. Leave me alone. It’s a lie. It must be a lie.” She jumped out of the chair, barged through the temple and outside.

Three steps down the path she crashed headlong into a burly body. Unnerved and angry, she shoved away and kicked out. “Let go of me. I won’t. I won’t,” she screeched.

“Shhh, Anna, love. It’s me, your da,” her stepfather said and enclosed her in a tight embrace with his muscular arms.

Suddenly she was sobbing—huge, loud, choking sobs. Sobs for her, her mother and even for the whole rotten mess.

He eased her from him. “They told me in the village what happened. It didn’t go well then?”

She squinted up into the darkness of his gray eyes and saw sympathy lurking in the depths. “I’m not mortal, Da. I’m not me anymore.”

“Don’t you fret yourself, Anna, love. This doesn’t change who you are or how much we all love you.”

“But it’s not fair,” she wailed as she buried her face in her stepfather’s shirtfront. “I don’t want to be half mortal, half Abrasaxon…and an Archon’s daughter.”

“Shh. Don’t fret yourself like this. It’s not so bad having a drop of magic blood in your veins,” her stepfather soothed as he gently stroked her hair with his large, callused hands.

She gazed up at him.

He nodded and a faint smile curled his wide mouth. “Believe me. It’s not so bad.”

“But they want to lock me away! Can you save me, Da? Can you?”

“Lock you away?” he roared. “Where? How?”

“In the retreat as an initiate…”

“Stupid women! To think that is going to solve the problem. Come, Anna, I will sort this.” Her stepfather laid his hand on her shoulder and urged her back into the temple.

“No, Da, you cannot go in there. Males are forbidden,” Brianna moaned as she stumbled down the corridor, propelled ahead of him by his anger.

“Forbidden or not, I will be heard on this matter,” he stated.

“But, Da, Mam agrees with them.”

He stopped so suddenly Brianna was almost jerked off her feet. His grip tightened on her shoulder. “No, Anna. Your mother would never willingly agree to that. They have given her no choice. Fear is a powerful motivator.”

Brianna shook her head. “She was crying, but she didn’t protest.”

“So I will, where she can’t,” he replied, pushing the door to the preparation room open.

“Halt. There is no invitation to enter.” Tennille’s voice was sharp and authoritative.

Ignoring the command, her stepfather stepped across the threshold and strode into the middle of the room before he stopped. Brianna stood beside him, trembling with trepidation. These women were powerful. One did not challenge them and expect to escape without censure.

“Halt, I said. Lek of Tash, you have no right to be here. Be gone,” Tennille said, rising from her seat and pointing at the door.

Brianna watched her mother. She half rose from her seat, her mouth open as if to say something, her white features accentuated starkly by her red robes. Then with a thump she sat back down.

“I have come to speak on behalf of my daughter, Brianna, whom you intend to punish unfairly because of her birthright,” Lek announced.

“She is not your daughter, Lek, for if she were, this situation would never have arisen.”

Lek nodded. “True, but this situation is unprecedented. No Abrasaxon has ever failed to return to a child at the manifestation of their gift. Hakon would never break such a promise or fail in his obligation. Something is amiss.”

“I agree, Lek, hence our move to protect the village and Brianna herself. It is the ideal solution.”

“Moonlight and madness, Tennille. Your efforts are futile. You think the Tyban cannot smell Abrasaxon magic from across the ravine? If they do not know of her existence yet, they soon will now that her gift is manifest.”

“But we can shield her.”

A sharp bark of laughter burst out of her stepfather. “You think your puny skills can shield the powerful magic that runs through her veins? Even I, as part Abrasaxon, and Hakon’s cousin, would not make such a claim.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“We need to find her father. Hakon is the only one who can fix this. Until then we will combine our skills to shield her as best we can. But she shall not be initiated.”

“Katrina, what say you? This is of your making. You were so sure he would be here. You assured us when we gave permission for your union to an Abrasaxon.”

Brianna’s mother struggled to stand. She held the edge of the table for support. “Things were different then. He was a younger son. He was never meant to be called to serve,” she muttered then peeped under her lashes at her partner. “Can we shield her, Lek, or would she be safer in the retreat?”

Lek frowned. “She is not safe anywhere, Katrina, but imprisoning her in the retreat will not help.”

Anger seethed beneath Brianna’s quiet exterior, and as the words flew back and forth and no resolution seemed possible, the tension inside her snapped.

“No! I won’t have it,” she proclaimed. “Enough, all of you. This is my life you’ve messed up and can’t fix.”

In the ensuing shocked silence she pulled away from her stepfather and blundered out of the temple, slamming the door behind her with a satisfying thud.

Desperate to escape from the self-righteous adults determined to organize her life, she hurtled down the street, her golden plaits slapping against her back. Without pausing, she climbed the fence at the edge of the common land and pushed her way through the newly harvested weepers crop, oblivious to the fine dusting of golden pollen that rose from the stubble and settled on her skin, luminous as moon dust.

It was still and shady in the forest clearing, and with practiced ease Brianna scrambled up to her secret hideaway, a rough platform nailed to the widest branch of the old gark tree. From here she could survey most of the valley as it spread out before her like a patchwork quilt, green and yellow in the sleepy warmth of the afternoon sun. She tucked her skirt up to her knees and settled back against the trunk with her legs crossed beneath her. On a sudden wave of pain and frustration, hot, salty tears filled her eyes and fell unchecked down her flushed cheeks.

A battle raged inside her—to rebel against those who had lied to her, and the unwanted new knowledge that she was half Abrasaxon with uncontrolled magic skills, or capitulate to their demands and the fear that drove them. Bitter resentment toward her mother’s deception and her failure to protest the priestess’s ultimatum threatened to choke her. My whole life is a blatant lie. I, Brianna, died today. The self-pitying thought cut deep.

The shocking revelation of her father’s identity had changed everything, turned her world upside down, and if the priestesses had any say, it would be the end of her freedom. There would be no adventures, no journeys to unknown places, no hanging out with friends—solely duty, servitude and ritual.

Surely her father would have wanted more for her than that. Why hadn’t he come? Fresh anger boiled inside her, but it was mixed with pain. Even if he didn’t love her, surely he owed her the guidance required to master her gift. It was his fault she had the gift, and now it was his fault she didn’t know how to use it. Her thoughts tumbled round and round, but no answers were forthcoming. Imprisonment in the priestesses’ retreat seemed inevitable.

Unless she ran away… No, that would be foolish and reckless, but… She could go and find Hakon, Grand Archon, and demand that he fulfill his duty as an Abrasaxon father.

Her mind danced away from the thought then back again. It was a bold plan because a journey of that magnitude would be fraught with difficulties. She rolled the idea around in her mind, contemplating the possibilities, and quickly convinced herself it would be better to do something, anything, than be trapped here in flimsy protection waiting for a Tyban to ‘smell’ her magic. Besides, if I have Da by my side, I’ll be safe. Yes—it felt right. Calmed by the development of her plan, she rested her head back against the tree trunk as she watched for her parents to return from the temple.

Farther out on the branch a zeppler chittered, his bushy red tail and droopy mustache twitching in delight above overlarge teeth as he plucked a nut from the branch and carried it away to a hollow in a neighboring tree. A couple of branches away a blue-and-white shandina desperately flapped tiny wings in a determined effort to protect the fledgling chicks in the nearby nest from Brianna’s invasion of her nesting space. Overhead, the soft green sky glowed with the last of the reaping cycle’s late heat. The emotional upheaval had drained Brianna of her energy and as she relaxed, her eyes closed…

 

* * * *

 

She shivered and opened her eyes with a start as cool air whispered across her skin. It was cold now and a deep-green gloom had settled over the clearing. “Oh, dear moonlight, I must have slept for ages.” She eased the kinks out of her body then climbed down the smooth, thick trunk, dusted herself off and headed toward home at a brisk walk, keen to present her plan to her parents.

It was almost dark and the six moons were rising together above the mountains when she stormed into the cottage. “Mam, Da, I’ve decided…” Her words died in her throat as she faced the empty room. Surely they’re not still at the temple? A sizzling burn of apprehension curled in her stomach. Would Tennille hold them for ransom to enforce her edict? Brianna cringed in answer to her silent question. No, not even Tennille would go that far.

She dragged on a coat and snatched up her crossbow, slung it over her shoulder and left the cottage. As she hurried up the path toward the temple, stumbling on unseen rocks and hollows, her dress flapping at her legs, her determination to find her father firmed in her mind. I will not just acquiesce to their demands, because I have other plans.

Hoping to slip unannounced into the preparation room, she crept through the side door and tiptoed up the corridor. The door to the preparation room was wide open, but the room was dark and silent. The two white candles on the curved assembly table had burned down to guttering stubs. A tight grip of trepidition wrapped itself around her chest. This is so wrong.

“Hello. Anyone here?” she called. Silence engulfed her. Fear rose like bile in her throat and threatened to choke her. She forced it down and took a few slow breaths.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as she moved cautiously through the silent building and out of the front door. The six moons were now high in the translucent green of the evening sky. She hesitated in the darker shadow of the portico and peered into the evening gloom. There was no sign of life anywhere. The only things that moved were the breeze through the trees and the undulating shadows of the leaves on the grass.

Fear tingled down her spine and she shivered as if someone’s hand had lightly brushed her shoulder. Where were her parents? The priestesses? Searching for me, maybe. Oh, moonbeams, now I’ll be in even more trouble. Better let them know I’m back…and take the consequences for my defiance. The thought of punishment didn’t worry her, but their possible refusal to listen to her plan did.

Nimbly she climbed the wooden ladder to the bell tower. From here she could survey the whole valley, and a peal of the three bells would carry all the way across to the forest, summoning them back to hear her plan.

A small movement in the meadow on the edge of the forest caught her attention as she lifted the clanger to whack the bell, but as she swung it down the clouds swept away from the moons and she could see clearly. The movement was not her parents or the priestesses. She gaped, twisted her arm and brought the clanger to a silent stop in the tangle of her skirts. Horror seeped through her as she studied the shuffling huddle of people moving slowly across the meadow behind the temple. Her hands trembled and the clanger fell with a soft thud at her feet.

“Tyban.” The word whistled quietly out before her breath died in her throat and she dropped into a low crouch behind the bell tower balustrade, every inch of her body trembling with disbelief and horror. Tyban, here in Kenon. Oh, dark moons, a Tyban has taken the whole village. That word, the name of the dreaded creatures from across the ravine, echoed around and around in her head. Gagging on the sickness that rose in her throat, and struggling to control her limbs effectively, Brianna climbed to her knees and peeped over the top of the stone wall.

In the silver luminescence of the moons she could see a black-robed figure astride an alien-looking whituka with black scaly skin, elongated, saliva-covered fangs and a wide, flat snout with nostrils that snorted smoke. The Tyban’s face was hidden in the all-encompassing cowl while skeletal fingers clutched the reins. Jerky movements of other, smaller creatures caught her attention. Hideous pug-nosed beasts with weeping yellow skin herded the villagers, pushing and shoving them to hurry their shambling pace up the rough path. There was no resistance from the captured mortals. She dismissed the repulsive guards as underlings and turned her attention back to the rider.

Brianna felt sick. The stinging burn of apprehension in her stomach turned into the fiery acid of terror. Her da had feared evil, and if this was what he’d feared then she was to blame—she, who had been defiant and rebellious. Her scent had brought the Tyban. Now it was her duty to save her people.

Hidden under the doffer brambles, she moved cautiously through the darkest shadows, determined to get ahead of the slow-moving column. She was panting by the time she reached her chosen vantage point directly before the gorge. From her elevated position above the path she had clear sight to fire upon the Tyban from behind the shielding boulders. Tremors battered through her as she squatted in the dark, watching and waiting. Brianna could make out individuals in the group now, and a putrid stench wafted up on the breeze, filling her nostrils and burning the back of her throat. As she gagged and choked on the bile that rose unbidden, she covered her mouth to stifle the sound, her gaze riveted on the horrible spectacle moving toward her.

Brianna gripped the rock in front of her so tightly her hands trembled with the effort as she forced herself to remain concealed instead of jumping up and hurtling down the slope to smash that creature into a million pieces. Slumped across the shoulders of the whituka, eyes closed, face pale in the moonlight, was her mother, and being dragged behind on the end of a chain was her stepfather, his face bruised and bloodied. Beside him, also chained, was Tennille, her gown torn and blood on her exposed shoulder. With desperate force, Brianna held her cries deep inside as she bit hard on her knuckles in a struggle to bring her terror under shaky control. How dare this creature, this Tyban, come and mess with my people? There was no time to think, or to plan. She had to act now or it would be too late. Oh, Luna Goddess, help me. And with the silent prayer still echoing in her mind, she fixed a bolt into her crossbow and rose to her feet in one fluid movement. The bolt was aimed directly at the Tyban on the scaly whituka.

“Release them,” she ordered.

The column swayed to an untidy halt.

The Tyban glowered up at her. Malevolence emanated from the embers that marked its eyes. It made no move to obey her command.

Her da peered in her direction and shook his head. “No! Run!” His voice was no more than a harsh groan echoed in the narrow cut through and up the cliff.

Brianna wavered between obedience and vengeance then ignored his instruction and steadied herself, feet planted wide. “Release them or die,” she declared. Her nerves jumped and twitched as she waited for a response.

The Tyban threw back its head and laughed. The eerie cackle shivered up her spine and made the hairs on her neck stand up. Fury and fear washed over her but the burning tide quickly drained away to cold resolve. She released the bolt. Her aim was straight and true. With a soft psst it struck the Tyban in the middle of where its chest would have been. Triumph energized her for a fraction of a second then, in an instant, turned to cold horror as the bolt passed right through the entity and thudded into the dirt embankment behind the creature. The end quivered slightly with the impact.

The Tyban cackled loudly again, but this time the sound turned into a soft whistle that filled the air, hypnotic, irresistible. Brianna felt herself drawn forward. Her feet moved of their own volition. The sound coming from the Tyban tickled her ears and whispered through her mind before the unknown entity raised a clawed finger. “Daughter of Hakon, you will come,” it said.

Brianna’s innate stubbornness and newly fired up rebellious streak flared at the order. She hardened her mind against the pull, determined to resist the call of the Tyban. Over and over she recited the steady beat of familiar temple chants, and after what seemed like an eternity her own words sharpened and rattled above the whistle. With awkward, shaky steps, she moved backward gradually, all the way to the crest of the gorge. Brianna shuddered with revulsion and consciously repelled the pulsing evil that emanated from below. As she reached the summit, the spine-chilling sound died into a pregnant silence.

Brianna paused for a moment to catch her breath and saw two of the revolting guards moving through the doffer brambles, scrabbling up the slope on their stumpy legs. They were coming for her. Two red fires sparked in the black hollow of the Tyban’s face as it pointed at her with a claw-like finger. She turned and ran. Fear and rage pumped her tired limbs into extraordinary efforts. Her lungs burned with the sheer effort of filling them with huge gasps of damp, cold air as she pushed her body past the limit of normal functioning. A stitch in her side almost dragged her to the ground as she fled through the darkness. It was imperative to remain free, for she was the only hope of rescue for her family and friends.

The thump of her pursuers’ big, clumsy feet close behind her spurred her forward, but she couldn’t seem to get far enough ahead to turn and fire her bow as they chased her down. With erratic leaps and bounds, Brianna crisscrossed the rough terrain on the slope above the village. Her breath wheezed in and out of her constricted throat and laboring lungs. There seemed no solution to her dilemma, and they were closing in fast.

Then she saw it, rising above the horizon in a sharp, angular silhouette—the unfinished soldiers’ welcome home monument. She hurtled toward it, stumbling and gasping the last few steps. As her hands touched the cold, hewn rock, she immediately found handholds in the crevices and began to climb.

Something went splat on the rock behind her, then again. Brianna continued to climb. A wet glob landed in the middle of her back. She cringed and tried to shake it off, but it clung to her dress, the wetness burning her skin like acid. The top of the memorial stone was a crumbling platform of rock and mortar barely big enough for her feet. Balanced precariously, she swung one leg over and sat astride the stone tower. A terrible stench wafted around her and she could hear the slap of the creatures’ footsteps and snuffling and growling as they circled the base of her refuge.

After blindly scratching around, Brianna found a couple of clefts in the rock and jammed her boots into them. She clenched her thighs tightly against the rock and gingerly slipped her bow off her shoulder, nocked the bolt, dragged the lever back, and waited until the first of her pursuers was highlighted by the moonlight. With a light, controlled pressure, she let the bolt loose. The creature screeched as it crumpled. Yes! One down, one to go. She reloaded and waited. It was silent below. I’m going to make you dust, you rotten little moon rocks. Just show yourself, why don’t you?

It was now obvious to Brianna that they must have some level of intelligence, despite their appearance, and that the second creature was smart enough to keep out of sight. She peered through the darkness, terrified it was going to climb up and get her. The squelching sound from below was barely a whisper, but it was enough. Brianna aimed and released the bolt. It whistled, then thudded into flesh. The creature screeched, and Brianna heard the plop as it hit the ground.

Reluctant to give up her safety, Brianna clung to her unsteady perch for quite a while, but all below remained still and silent. Trembling now with a combination of shock, cold and fear, she slowly climbed down the uneven rock face. A quick inspection confirmed both creatures were dead. Barely able to stay upright on stiff, aching legs, and sagging under a heavy blanket of fatigue and disbelief, Brianna stumbled back home. Afraid of being accosted, she peered into the darkness and jumped at the tiniest sound, but no more creatures confronted her.

The cottage was cold and dark, the fire barely warm embers. Knowing the Tyban would hunt for her, Brianna immediately abandoned any thought of sleeping there. She’d gather some food and go across the stream to the hideout the children of the village had used for years to keep out of sight of demanding parents. It would be warm, dry and well hidden from the intruders.

By the feeble light of a candle, Brianna quickly stripped off her smelly dress and pulled on a pair her stepfather’s trousers, a shirt and a vest. They swamped her small frame, but were eminently more practical than a skirt. She gathered up some bread, cheese, fruit, a couple of candles, a flint and two blankets. The eerie emptiness of the cottage played havoc with her senses—every flicker of movement, every whisper of breeze seemed to have a monstrous life of its own. Brianna shivered as she took one more lingering look around, willing with all her being for things to return to normal.

She retrieved her sword from the box under her bed and strapped it around her waist, using the belt to hold her pants up. The metal felt cool and strong in her sweaty hands. Her grandfather, Kassio, had inspired her love of swordplay at the start of the Yabix War, and after he’d passed, she had continued honing her skills with the blacksmith, a retired soldier. Combined with her crossbow, and the dagger she always carried tucked in her boot, the sword gave her a sense of security, somewhat shaky, but something she could cling to when all else had dissolved into a bad nightmare.