- Signs and Signals
“What do you two want?” she demanded softly.
The twins, the children of the smiths travelling with them, giggled at the accusation. Their faces, usually smeared with soot and dust from the forge, were now cleanly scrubbed, reflecting the firelight like polished apples.
The girl hit the boy on the shoulder, nudging him to talk. He hit her back in kind, so she was the one to speak.
“We wanted to know about the Dragon Brothers.” She explained, her voice clear and high against the gentle crackle of the fire.
A warm breeze rustled the edges of the firepit logs, carrying a hint of pine from the surrounding woods.
“You've had one with you since Nighthold. Why haven't you asked him?”
“He doesn't talk to us.”
She smiled and folded her arms. “What makes you think I will.”
“You're a girl.” The girl reasoned. “Girls are nicer.”
Lyrianna feigned a frown. She couldn't decide whether it was good or bad they considered her more approachable.
“Very well.” She pointed to a bench near the firepit. “Sit.”
She sat down opposite them and folded her fingers together, trying to look like an imposing figure of deep wisdom and authority. “Ask your questions, tiny twins.”
“We're not tiny.” The boy said, finding his voice. “We're children.”
“So you say...” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at them both. They giggled in amusement, the sound bright and quick like snapping dry twigs. “What do you wish to know?”
The girl went first. “Why are you called Dragon Brothers. You're not dragons. And I don't think you are brothers either.” The firelight danced in her wide, curious eyes.
“We are the Order of the Brothers of the Dragon Moon. Dragon Brothers is just easier to say.”
“What is the Dragon Moon?”
“Have you heard of the moon cycles?”
Both children shook their heads, their heads creating two matching silhouettes against the flickering background.
“It is like this. Most of the time the moon is just the moon. Everything is normal. Sometimes things are good. Sometimes they are bad. It depends on people.”
The children nodded to show they understood.
“But after a while things change and the moon grows larger and more yellow. We call this the Hunter's Moon because it makes hunting by night easier.”
“Because it is brighter?” The boy checked.
“Just so. The Hunter's Moon is not so unusual but now and then unusual things happen under the Hunter's Moon. Beasts become strange. People go missing in the night. We have to be more careful under the Hunter's Moon.”
“Are there monsters?” The girl asked, leaning in closer to the heat.
Lyrianna shifted her weight and let her cloak settle around her shoulders, the firelight flickering across her armour.
“Yes. But they are not so much worse than the beasts we all know.”
“How long does the Hunter's Moon stay?” The boy checked.
“Maybe a year. Maybe twenty. But usually after this the normal moon returns.” The children looked relieved and she shook her head. “But sometimes, maybe one time in ten, the normal moon doesn't return. Instead the moon grows larger again and becomes the Wolf Moon.” The sound of the caravan's settling horses seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of the fire and Lyrianna's voice.
“Do people turn into wolves?” The girl asked.
“Sometimes. But this is not why it is called that.”
“Why is it?”
“The wolves fear these days as much as we do. They cry in alarm at the sight of this larger moon.”
“Why?” they asked as one.
“Because this is when the true monsters come. The nights become a place of peril. Men and women shut their doors and bolt them shut and pray for the days of the Wolf Moon to be done.”
“How long for?”
“A year? Ten years? Sometimes longer.”
“And then the normal moon returns?” the boy asked, resuming his role of the checker of logic.
“Most of the time, yes.” She let it sink in. “But sometimes, very rarely, the moon then grows larger again and turns red.”
“The Dragon Moon?” the girl stammered involuntarily.
“The Dragon Moon.” Lyrianna confirmed. “And all the worst imaginable monsters rise in this time. It is so terrifying that all people must unite to stay alive. And this is why my Order was founded. We exist so in this most terrible circumstance, there are people ready to fight the monsters.”
“When is the next Dragon Moon coming?” the boy asked.
“Nobody knows. All we know is the Wolf Moon must come first.”
As one, the children looked up at the sky, where the pale moon hung high above the smoke.
“What moon is it now?” the girl asked nervously.
“It is the Hunter's Moon. It has been as long as I can remember.”
“It looks more blue than yellow to me.” The boy remarked.
“Then perhaps it is returning to the quiet Moon.”
“What if it is turning to the Wolf Moon?” the boy pressed.
“Then my Order will be there to defend you.”
The girl looked at her with interest. “Are there lots of girls who are also Dragon Brothers?”
“No. Only me. I'm the only one they've ever let in.”
“Because you're so pretty?” The girl pondered.
“No, silly.” The boy corrected. “It's because she's strong.”
The girl nodded. “It's true. You've got really big muscles.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Me? Muscles? Don't be silly. Girls don't have muscles.”
“Yes, you do. I saw earlier when you were pushing our wagon. Bigger muscles than my dad, even.”
“Oh....” Lyrianna drew out her arm and flexed her bicep. The firelight caught the sudden, hard curve of her forearm and shoulder, creating a dark, defined shadow. “You mean these muscles?”
The girl clapped excitedly, the sound sharp and delighted.
“Can you lift a man?” the boy asked.
“Yes, easily.” Lyrianna answered smiling.
“A horse?” the girl joined in.
Lyrianna laughed and gave a mock serious frown. “Yes, absolutely.”
“An ox?” the boy followed up.
“An ox?” Lyrianna put her finger to her chin and tilted her head from side to side. “Yes.”
The girl opened her mouth in awe. “Are you the strongest woman in the world?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged, letting the firelight dance across her forearm. “But it's a big world.”
Lyrianna looked up and caught the smiles of several adults who had been listening along discreetly. Behind them she saw Alaric. The high flames of the firepit cast his shadow long and distorted across the ground.
“I need to speak to my Brother. Sleep well, children.”
Alaric didn't need to walk over to her; she fell into step, following him to a spot looking out over the ravine behind the refuge. The collective noise of the camp quickly faded behind her as she moved toward the edge of the outcrop. They reached a point where the wind was sharper and the stark blackness of the ravine swallowed the firelight.
“How much of that did you hear?” she asked.
“A fair bit.”
“I'm not sure I reassured them. They might have nightmares now.”
Alaric gave a wry smile. He nudged a loose stone with the toe of his boot, sending it tumbling silently into the void. “Sometimes it's better to inspire than reassure.”
“Anything in the area to give us concern?”
“No.” There was a weariness in his tone, his shoulders slumped slightly.
“Isn't that a good thing?”
“I keep wondering about our luck. It's not a new thing. The reason Nighthold has so few Brothers now is that we have had little to do. It's like the clanless have disappeared.”
Lyrianna looked at the night sky and wrapped her cloak tight. “What has happened to them?”
“That's the question.” Alaric shrugged. The cold air made his breath briefly visible. “But it's not one we need to answer. Get some sleep. I want you up before first light.”
Lyrianna rose from her bunk as instructed, when the night had changed from black to frigid, deep blue. Alaric's bed was already empty.
She changed in the dark into her chest armour, loincloth, and fur thigh skirts. The metal felt like ice against her skin in the unheated dormitory. The greaves, pauldrons, and vambraces could wait. She put on the fur gambeson over the top and headed outside.
Alaric was waiting for her where they spoke the night before. He was fully equipped already. When he saw her, he nodded to another section of the wall.
Lyrianna followed, and it became clear that the wall was giving an optical illusion. When they came close, it clearly turned and led to a set of downward stairs that exited into a narrow passage beside the ravine. A short way into this was a small rope bridge leading to the other side.
The wind whipped her hair during the crossing, making the ropes vibrate subtly. She tried not to look down... unsuccessfully.
Her stomach fluttered as the ropes vibrated beneath her hands, and the platform swayed slightly with each step.
On the other side, there was a rope pulling a wooden lift and a turning wheel. Alaric removed the discrete lock behind the mechanism.
“Would you rather push or pull?”
“What's the difference?”
Alaric shrugged. “Same effort. Depends whether you prefer being seen from above or below.”
“I don't mind.” She winked. “I look good from every angle.”
Alaric nodded. “I don't doubt it. I'll go first then. You'll need to get me up there.”
Lyrianna waited for Alaric to step into the platform and then started turning the wheel. The cold metal handles bit into her palms, but the platform rose smoothly. He rose up at once. She laughed to herself. She had told the twins she could lift a man easily.
She didn't need him to confirm he'd reached the top. The return of the lift, now empty, told the whole story. She got on board and waited. The rope gave a slight, audible tension sigh as the mechanism must have given him some clue because she rose immediately.
The platform ascended out of the ravine until it was level with the refuge and continued to go higher until they were far above. She stepped off onto a flat space of rock and the valley and beyond were open before her. The air up here was thin and bitingly cold. She was sure she could see the slopes of the monastery mountain from here.
There was a brazier covered by a pointed roof supported by four pillars. The dark metal of the roof was barely visible against the pre-dawn sky. That's where Alaric was standing.
“Have you ever done the smoke?” he asked.
“No.”
“You wouldn't have needed to. We don't need to now but... you should know about it.” He gestured to the deep, empty bowl filled with tinder. “There's only two times you light this.” He reached into a compartment beneath it and removed two cylinders. “One: if you want to tell people to come to you. For that you need this one.” He shook his left hand. “This is oil.”
“When is the other time?”
“If you want to tell others that this place has fallen. Tell others not to come. That's when you use this.” He shook the cylinder in his right hand. “Makes the smoke go red. I'd demonstrate but...”
“I get it.” She looked back. “Can they see smoke from here in the monastery?”
“No. But they can from the watchtower above Moonhold and...” he pointed to a dark shape on a high point on the way ahead, “...in Foxfell.”
“That's good to know. We're not really alone.”
“We will be until Foxfell.”
“Then we should press on.”
“Indeed.”
The caravan was on the move again by the early hours. Alaric took his place at the head of the column. Today, as requested, she moved up and down the caravan line, letting her presence be felt.
She pulled alongside each group with the morning sun glinting sharply on her pauldrons and vambraces, radiating cheerful determination. The polished metal caught the low light, transforming her into a vivid, moving centerpiece against the dusty brown and grey of the procession.
The children cheered and waved every time she passed their wagon, their bright voices momentarily cutting through the low, repetitive grind of the wheels. Many of the adults seemed just as pleased. She had worried they wouldn't trust her until she had proved herself in battle. In the event, it seemed that anyone in armour on a warhorse, who towered silently above every man there and carried enough weaponry for a small warband, gave quite effective reassurance.
The valley was one long downhill at this point in the journey. With every mile Foxfell came closer, it also seemed to climb higher until they could see it perched on a cliff face high above. The next day would be one of constant climb to reach it. As the mountains to their left glowed gold and amber in the setting sun, painting the peaks with warmth, they found a camping spot beside a shallow stream over smooth, sand-coloured stones.
In the tree line there seemed to be a camp already present. Lyrianna spurred Marinus to join Alaric as he investigated. The horse's hooves sank silently into the soft, needle-strewn soil near the pines.
“Is someone here?”
Alaric shook his head and drew up his horse by one of the camp fires. He dropped from his saddle and tested the blackened timber for warmth. A faint wisp of smoke, thin as silk, still clung to the air.
“Sometimes people leave things behind for the next people to come. Try and make things a bit easier.”
Lyrianna landed nearby. The worn leather of her saddle creaked faintly. “What happened to the rules of the road?”
“This is part of it.” He replied brightly. “Survival means you can help others. If something you don't need is useful to someone else, leave it behind. It all comes around.”
Whoever had been here had obviously not needed all their cooking pans and tinder. Beside one pine there was a whole tent donated to the next set of travellers. It was a sturdy canvas, neatly folded and lashed with rope. At the sight of it, Lyrianna's thoughts suddenly turned grim.
“Why wouldn't they need a whole tent anymore?”
“Do I need to say?” Alaric’s gaze drifted toward the darkening road ahead.
“No. I was just hoping you had a different idea.”
Alaric nodded and then looked at her seriously. He reached out and rested his hand briefly on the back of her armoured forearm. “What I said before. I was wrong. At least I said it poorly.”
“What do you mean?”
“I've thought I was giving you the truth about the Order so you'd be properly prepared. But that's not what we need. The Order doesn't need you to become another me.”
“Then what does it need?”
“It needs you to be you, the you who still believes. I saw how you were with the children and on the road today.” He shook his head and smiled. The worry lines around his eyes softened for a moment. “I think as long as you believe, everyone you meet will believe too.”
“Even you?”
His face cracked into a grin. “Steady on, I haven't seen if you can fight yet.” They both let out a chuckle. The dry sound was a welcome contrast to the quiet unease of the deserted camp.
“You think Master Maldron would let me loose if I couldn't?”
“He might....” Alaric smirked. “But I'd be really bloody surprised.”