Black Moon Draw(84)

She nods.

With fear bubbling, I wait to see what horrible fate awaits me.

We step outside the tent, where there are half a dozen horses waiting for us. The Desert Knight says nothing to me and mounts his while the others follow his lead.

Westley motions to the guards, who take me to him. With some effort, they get me on the horse behind the teen, and I wrap my arms around him, not looking forward to yet another trip on horseback. My ass is never going to recover.

If the world ends tomorrow at sunset, I guess it doesn’t really matter how sore I am.

Judging by the position of the sun ball in the sky, it’s late afternoon. The skies remain dark gray, and the fog appears to grow darker, the closer it is to its source in the city. I lean around Westley to see where he’s steering the horse.

Columns upon columns of mounted warriors line the foothills, as far as I can see. They’re waiting at the mouth of the pass leading through the mountains. The sight makes my breath catch in my sore throat.

There’s no way the Shadow Knight can defeat such an army without his own and without my shitty magic.

I rest my head against Westley’s shoulder. Escorted by several warriors eyeing me like I’m some kind of stray dog with rabies, we start into the pass, his father and four others ahead and the entire army of Brown Sun Lake behind.

“What’s going on?” I ask quietly. “Are you throwing me off a cliff?”

“My father would love to throw you into a pit of despair, but he has a better option.”

“Is there really a pit of despair?” I ask.

“No, witch.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “’Tis an expression.”

Nice, LF. Assuming this is still a book, that is, which I’m starting to doubt. “Then where are we going?”

Westley is quiet for a moment before responding. “The Shadow Knight offered to surrender, in exchange for you.”

“He did what?” I nearly shout the words, drawing the attention of everyone around us.

“Quiet!”

My god! The man thinks I have magic. He has no way to know the medallion is gone. “He can’t do that!” I hiss.

“Naia, keep quiet!” Westley shifts, eyes on his father. “I do not know what else to do. You are his battle-witch. You can do something or mayhap he knows aught we do not about your magic.”

It’s hard not to panic and jump down to run screaming for the hills. I hug him harder and press my face to his back. The only thing worse than knowing I’ve disappointed the Shadow Knight: having to tell him it’s my fault his world is about to end.

Tears sting my eyes. I have no idea how to tell him the truth and it crushes me thinking about it.

The ride through the pass is the longest two hours of my life. I can hear the sound of doom – the squeak of horse leathers, ring of hooves on stone and rattling of weapons in their sheathes – coming from behind me and know I’m bringing with me the destruction of Black Moon Draw.

The emerald hills beneath gray skies draw my gaze when we reach the other side of the mountains. Instead of cheering me up with their sweet scent, the knowledge I can’t save them sends me tumbling into despair.

All this will be gone tomorrow. The place that feels like home, the man who makes me feel alive.

It’s not real. My chant no longer works. All I can think about is how much this is going to hurt. If this is a book, or a dream, I’ll never recover.

We ride along the foothills of the mountains on the road leading towards the mile long walls of the city at the heart of Black Moon Draw. The walls soon tower above us, smooth, carved from the stone of the mountains. The sky above the city’s center is black.

The road leads to an entrance made of wooden planks wider than the trailer of a semi-truck. One of the planks is open, and I find myself peering around Westley to see into the home of the Shadow Knight.

Edifices carved out of the same stone as the walls, wide streets lined by lit torches, wooden doors and window shutters painted different colors. Even before we ride unchallenged through the entrance, I’m in love with the understated romance of the city. As we enter, I can make out the light filigree that decorates each fa?ade.

It’s as unique and beautiful as the hills – except for the plethora of lifelike statues scattered everywhere. They’re are downright creepy.

Lost in wonder, I admire everything around me, except for the statues, not even noticing the lack of people until I hear one of our escorts muttering about ghosts.

It’s true. There’s no sign of life anywhere. The city hasn’t been vacated for the impending war; it looks like no one has lived here in years.

We follow the main avenue that wraps around the city, each lap around growing smaller as the spiral tightens, until we reach the open doors of a castle on the hill at the center of the city, directly beneath the eye of the black clouds swirling above. The castle has dozens of spires, towers and layer upon layer of levels, enormous, a sign of wealth unlike any I’ve seen in this world so far. This is what a castle should look like.

I could’ve lived here. The thought makes my cheeks warm. Then the devastation kicks in, and I want to cry again.

I don’t, instead focused on the incredible world around me. The Desert Knight marches triumphantly up to the open gates of the castle without so much as a single Black Moon Draw warrior appearing.

If the statue-strewn streets of the city are dead quiet, the castle’s bailey and interior are downright eerie. We dismount and enter through doors hanging sadly off their hinges. At one time, the castle was the height of grandeur. Tattered tapestries depicting great battles hang from the walls, which appear to have been gilded at one point. Flecks of gold and silver sparkle in torchlight. The soaring wooden beams far overhead are almost white with cobwebs, and a thick layer of dust covers the heavy stone furnishings and floor in the massive foyer area.