Black Moon Draw(85)

I’m surrounded by the men of Brown Sun Lake, who halt in the center of the torch lit foyer. Three dark corridors lead out of this area while the fourth wall is behind us, containing the sagging wooden doors marking the entrance.

The temperature drops around us and fog clings to the corners of the ceiling. I shiver, grateful for the cloak and hood. My breath hangs in the air. The world is beginning to darken as night grows near, and torchlight alone provides visibility in the windowless interior.

“What is this?” the Desert Knight growls. “Where are the guards? The people?”

I’m wondering the same.

“Welcome to Black Moon Draw,” Atreyu’s voice is quiet, hard – and far more unwelcoming than I’ve ever heard.

I turn, crowding Westley.

The castle wall ahead of us morphs from a corridor entrance into a well-lit stairwell. The Shadow Knight stands in his black cloak with his boar’s head on the landing. His powerful form is still, his forearms chiseled with tension. The combination of theatrics, the Shadow Knight’s size, and creepy castle wears on more than me.

The Desert Knight’s men are reaching for their weapons. Westley grips my arm, less out of fear I’ll escape and more because he appears as scared as I feel.

“He will not kill us, will he?” the teen whispers.

“I don’t really know. He’s got nothing to lose.”

“Then the safest place to stand is with you.”

“Unless he’s afraid I’ll use my magic against him.”

“Where are the people?” the Desert Knight booms. “Do not think to ambush me!”

“There have been no people in Black Moon Draw in nearly a thousand years. Only an army, a Shadow Knight, and . . . the fog.”

“Impossible!”

“’Tis the way of Black Moon Draw. The rumors of madness are true. Should you stay too long in the castle or the city, you will die or go mad.”

What a lonely life. My heart aches as I gaze at the boar-headed man, understanding even more what his sacrifice has been. Twenty-five years sleeping under fog, a constant reminder of the war he fought. Two decades without a home.

The Desert Knight’s eyes narrow and he glances at me. I have a feeling he’s ready to chop me to bits.

“The city is yours,” the Shadow Knight says. “If you can leave it alive.”

Silence.

My heart is beating so loudly, I’m afraid Westley can hear it. He’s pale, scared.

“These were not our terms,” the Desert Knight warns. “You swore to surrender in exchange for her.” Striding to me, he yanks me free of his son, his grip hurting.

“I have surrendered.” The Shadow Knight takes two steps down the stairs and then stops. “The city is yours. Black Moon Draw is yours. I promised you unopposed entry. At no point did I promise you the ability to leave.”

“Then you can say farewell to your battle-witch!” The Desert Knight whips out a knife.

I squeeze my eyes closed and wait for the fatal blow to fall.

Cold fog chokes me like smoke and I start coughing. Everyone around me begins choking and coughing as well.

The Desert Knight’s grip on me loosens, and I pull free, dropping to the ground. The smoke covers everything, leaving a thin layer of air near the floor. I suck in deep breaths, trying to make out anything around me. It’s not just dread in my gut; it’s the sense I’m lying under an anvil that’s about to drop.

Something really bad is going to happen.

Someone trips over me and lands flat on his belly beside me. I recognize Westley in the dim light.

“We have to . . . get out of here,” I whisper to him.

He nods.

“The door is that way. Or was.” I point in the direction I think was right behind me. “Wasn’t it?”

“’Twas.”

“Ready?”

“Aye.”

Taking his hand, I hold my breath and bolt to my feet, running toward the area where the door was. The sounds of others coughing and stumbling fades. I keep one hand stretched out in front of me so I don’t collide with the door or anyone else. My fingertips graze the wall and I slow.

“I don’t feel it,” Westley says and begins to cough.

I don’t either. Without releasing his hand, I move down the wall in the direction towards the entrance. The stone wall is cool and smooth – but there’s no door.

My thoughts return to the sight of a stairwell melting out of the wall, and I quicken my pace, not wanting to get stuck in a castle that turns into a maze. LF clearly loves some of the same movies I do. I have a feeling her version of Labyrinth is going to be ten times worse than the movie. Unable to hold my breath anymore, I release it.

The smoke is clearing. It no longer chokes me, the last tendrils tickling my neck as they dissipate.

“There’s no door,” I say, stepping back to look right and left.

“They’re gone,” Westley whispers, his attention behind us.

I turn to see the foyer empty. Everything appears the same – except there is only one way out now, where there were at least three hallways to choose from before. All that remains is the stairwell where the Shadow Knight appeared.

He’s gone. I don’t think it’s a good sign that he didn’t stick around to check on me.