The Portal

II 2.11 Shadow moon

Christine knew how to keep an interesting conversation. Maybe it was because of the total lack of embarrassment in her manners. Noa felt at ease. And that was rare. How long had they been out there? He had lost track of time. Even Liam and Bryanna, who had started the evening in spirited conversation on the porch, had already walked in and were now playing cards with Daria and Joshua. Everyone seemed distracted. Mateo and Baldric were playing a game of pool. Serena watched the game while flipping through a book.

The balcony had an external staircase, which connected to a small balcony and gave access to the second floor. If he went up with Christine that way, no one would see. The others would notice their absence, of course. The musicians Blake called out played a slow tune in the hall, and Christine, still sitting on the sofa, moved her body slowly in a subtle cadence. As Noa considered this possibility, he felt once more the fierce sting beneath his left shoulder. He scrambled for a position to ease the pain, but it didn't do much.

Maybe tonight wasn't ideal, he thought. The shadow moon glowed and intensified the heat in his scar. On top of that, if he took Christine to his room, he would have to explain that mark. No woman seemed to be able to see a scar without wanting to know the story behind it. Well, at least the women who saw his, he reckoned.

With a peculiar shape, the mark on the skin drew a perfect shadow moon. It was the symbol of the taú army, by which he had been captured more than two years ago. Even so, every month he was reminded of his short stay as a prisoner. All Rariff soldiers knew what it meant to be a taú prisoner. Stories about their tortures were told in bars and taverns by the few survivors. Most didn't last long, though. The pain of the scar could drive a man crazy.

By the time he earned his mark, Noa was a member of the cavalry, just an apprentice. He accompanied his uncle's army and set out on specific missions with generals of Ür's confidence. The memories of that day were confused. They were the target of an ambush, but they suspected that the taú army was expecting another enemy. They were a small entourage and were easily contained and captured.

He and the other Rariff officers had been taken to a precarious camp during the night. They spent the next day chained in a tent with other prisoners. As night fell, a group of tau soldiers entered the tent. One of them held a long iron stake, the tip of which formed a small crescent moon made of a reddish stone that Noa had never seen.

In addition to the northerners, two other prisoners were already in the tent. Noa watched as a burly, bearded man was dragged into the center of the tent. The man could barely walk. The taú threw him on top of a wooden stump, while the one holding the stake heated the stone in the burning fire. Noa never forgot the man's murmurs and wails. As they lifted their loose, torn robes, Noa saw the violent mark that had been left the night before.

The taús were known to be sadistic to their prisoners. They marked them with that damned stone until the pain consumed them. With the intense pain, the prisoners' hearts didn't take much time to fail. Yezekael had explained to Noa that it wasn't just sadism. It was because of the scar and its stories that the taú army was feared. And, because of this fear that it provoked, they managed to survive. They didn't have a kingdom. They weren't a people, they weren't a race, they didn't even speak the same language. It was an army made up of mercenaries, condemned men, fugitives. They sacked cities, raped women, killed men from other armies to get weapons. Stories of their cruelty kept enemies far away.

Noa had tried to remain calm all day as a prisoner. He knew that his presence there tranquilized other officers. After all, was this really the end of the Rariff heir? He thought that at any moment, Rariff troops would invade the camp and rescue him. His officers thought the same. But when he saw the stone burn the skin of the first prisoner, that hope deserted him. The big, burly man flailed and whimpered like a boy as his flesh singed beneath the stone. The laments soon gave way to roars, which filled the tent. Within minutes, the man lost consciousness. He was dead.