Page 16 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

Several soldiers released sighs of relief as the animals neared the tree line once again, but the relief was short-lived. Changing direction abruptly, the lycane charged full speed at the wall.

“What are they doing?” the commander asked in disbelief. Callan thought it was quite clear what the creatures were doing.

They’re trying to breach the wall.

The monstrous beasts struck the wall in rapid succession, their broad sides colliding with the solid stone as forcefully as a pair of battering rams. Startled shouts rang out from the sentries, the sound quickly dissipating in the quiet night air. Two thuds followed as the lycane fell to the ground. Barely a breath later, they rose once again and readied for another running start.

“They can’t get through,” the commander shouted. “They’ll never get past the shield.”

Another faint reverberation rumbled beneath Callan’s boots as the lycane crashed into the wall a second time, one yelping in pain.

“It makes no difference to them,” Callan said absently, watching the beasts take position for a third strike.

The sentries shifted around him, uneasy. All their training and no one was prepared for this moment. Callan had never seen anything like it, either. After the third impact, one of the beasts remained on the ground, whimpering and unable to rise. Pity seized Callan’s chest. The creatures were driven not by their own desires but by a power eclipsing even their instinct for survival. They would die in pursuit of their aim unless someone put them out of their misery first.

“Now,” Callan said, signaling the archer whose hand he had stayed only moments before. “End its suffering.”

The arrow sang as it sliced through the air, striking the wounded beast in the throat. The second lycane limped toward the trees, one of its forelegs clearly injured. Still, it readied for another assault.

“The other, as well,” Callan ordered. The archer glanced at his commander, who nodded silently. A second arrow cut through the chill night, piercing the creature’s eye.

Several minutes passed in silence with no movement from the trees. Callan sheathed his sword and took one of the torches, quickly descending the steps to the courtyard below. A handful of sentries followed close behind with blades at the ready.

After exiting the Estate through the wooden gates, Callan moved stealthily along the base of the exterior wall to the place where the two hulking beasts lay. Patches of blood marred their midnight coats, shining in the torchlight. The foreleg of one beast was obviously broken, bent at an unnatural angle. Callan held the torch close to the wall; a grisly painting of fresh blood and tufts of black fur splashed across the gray stone.

“Burn them and see that this mess is cleaned up.” He jerked his chin at the soiled wall. “We don’t want any of the residents to see this come morning.”

Callan held the flame close to the remains, his brow furrowed and mind whirring. Four lycane sightings in as many days. The creatures were behaving abnormally: hunting in pairs, attempting to breach a fortified city guarded by both magic and solid stone. He couldn’t help but wonder whether the strange occurrences were connected to the recent arrival of a certain raven-haired female in the Autumn Court.

Nine

Nova sailed along the carpeted hallway past countless candles mounted on gilded sconces. The flames flickered in her wake as she breezed past but never went out. Candles in the Autumn Court burned brightly until extinguished, the tapers never shrinking, the wicks never burning down. She’d learned a great many things over the previous seven days, sequestered in the library under Fawn’s thorough instruction, intent on absorbing every detail she possibly could about Aemoria, its territories, the folk of each territory, and their abilities.

Nova had spent the previous day educating Fawn about the customs and beliefs of humans, as promised. Fawn was appalled to learn mortals no longer worshipped the ancient gods.

“What did you call them?” she had asked, shaking her head faintly as if she’d simply misheard.

“The Forgotten Gods,” Nova repeated. “I read about them in an anthology of rare folklore my father once gave me. I’m afraid they’ve become as much a faerie tale as the Fae.”

“Well, I suppose the Fae can’t abandon the gods so easily when they are the very source of our magic.” Fawn raised her hands toward the ceiling, gesturing to the mural of Embra overhead. The flames in the fireplace flared with her movement, and Nova marveled at her friend’s power.

“Now then,” Fawn said, returning to her lesson. “What are the two classes of Fae?”

“Noble and common.”

“Can all Fae use magic?” Fawn tapped her chin with her forefinger.

“Common Fae can use magic on a small scale. The gentry of each territory can use magic to a greater degree, but the members of each territory’s Noble bloodlines possess the most powerful abilities bestowed by their patron.”

“Very good,” Fawn had said, circling behind Nova’s chair. “Name the patrons and abilities of each territory.”

Nova began, ticking off each one on her fingers so as not to forget any.

“Aurore, the goddess of life and light, gifted Sonnend with healing and the ability to conjure sunlight. Nivali received snow and ice wielding from Brumal, the god of transformation.”

“Keep going. You’re doing well,” Fawn had pressed.

Closing her eyes, Nova visualized the map of Aemoria she’d been studying in her room by candlelight long after her lessons ended each day.