Midnight Moon

Chapter 49 - When the Midnight Moon Shines Bright

The skull's expression could not change, but Veanna was sure it would have worn a cruel smile if it had lips.

"Chaskae vranshar." The voice was worse than the laugh; it sent worms crawling through her stomach and across her skin, and if she had not been frozen in terror she might have vomited. "Daughter of my blood. I thank you for your sacrifice." Even when he reverted from the Old Tongue, his words held a harsh accent and an unnatural power.

Bone by creaking bone, Ren sat up in his coffin. One skeletal hand raised to keep Veanna's palms pressed against his chest, curling her fingers around his ribs. Faltis' grip moved from her wrists to her shoulder, still pinning her in place. That perpetual grin was fixed on her, the eye sockets deep and dark. The moonlight streaming between them pulsed, and she tore her eyes away from his empty gaze to watch the blood on the surface of the tomb congeal and pool.

Foreign murmurs issued from between his teeth and the runes glowed a bright blue in answer to his incantation. He placed his free hand on the coffin lid, and the blood collected beneath his palm before coalescing into tendrils that rose from the stone to wind up his arms. Magic snaked its way beneath ragged robes, emerging behind his head and curling around his face.

The blood absorbed into the bone, then the blue glow emanated from within his skull. As the light faded, skin grew inch by inch until it covered his scalp, one eyeball gruesomely materialising to roll in the hollow socket. Grey hair clung to the reattached skin, thinning as her father's was, but the dark eye that stared at her held none of her father's warmth.

"You have given me life, girl," Ren spoke again in a guttural rumble that cut into her mind like needles, "But I need more." The hand holding hers clenched and lifted it from his ribs, patches of flesh now clinging to the bones. His sharp fingertips curled around her palm and dug into the wound, making her cry out even while frozen in fear.

Again, blood swirled into his sleeve and sank into his body with a glow. Flesh rose to cover most of his head and his hands, gaps gradually layering up from sinew and muscle to fat and skin. Where symbols had been cut into the bone, the weathered skin that covered them retained pale scars: the marks must have been carved while the man was alive.

Lips hung in a limp smile before Ren's teeth, barely supported by enough muscle to pull them into an expression. Twin brown eyes swivelled in their sockets, darting to where Faltis gripped her wrists then back to her face, as though checking she was experiencing the agony of her blood draining away drop by drop.

He hadn't looked around at the Order, not to Faltis or the High Priestess, nor to the nameless, faceless minions that were battling in his name. Veanna kept her eyes locked on him in return, fighting not to react to his apparent lack of omniscience, as his narrow focus kept him from spotting the axe flying towards his head.

Faltis did notice, sending the weapon shooting back the way it had come with a flick of his hand. His moment of distraction was enough to lift the pressure from his grip, and Veanna took the opportunity to yank her shoulder away from him.

Ren snarled as she pulled out of his grasp, his face grotesquely half-formed, but his bony fingers were not enough to hold her in place. She ducked behind the coffin, lunging for the sword that had been taken from her.

Her bound hands scrabbled around the corner of the coffin, cut palms screaming as she grasped the hilt that had been tucked out of reach. Desperately, she crawled her fingers up the sword and sawed the ropes around her wrists against the blade. Ever prepared, Tia had sharpened all of their weapons, and it slid easily through her bindings.

Veanna flipped onto her back, twisting the sword to slice the restraints on her ankles too. Adrenaline was already numbing the pain of her protesting wounds and her muscles were relieved to be free again.

The rest was brief, as the deformed visage of Ren rose over the lip of the coffin, fingers curling around the edge as he snarled at her. She lifted her sword, not sure what she could do from this position, but damned if she was going to give up without a fight, and braced herself for whatever attack might come.

Before one could be made, a second sword came swinging through the air and crashed down on Ren's neck. His head dropped like a stone and rolled across the dais, patches of bone flashing white. Veanna stared as it came to rest, its face turned towards her, and the runes cut across it began to glow. Within one of her frantic heartbeats, the eyes snapped to her and shone blue as well.

Movement to the left told her the headless body was crawling in her direction, but her attention was caught by her rescuer. Jate stood above her, eyes wide and sword spattered with blood, but his focus was entirely on her.

The wonderful agony of love burst through her heart in full force after so long loving from a distance, and she was momentarily grateful she was not standing as her knees went weak with joy and relief. Then he extended a hand to her, taking hold of her wrist and avoiding her injured hand, the same concoction of emotions echoed in his expression as he helped her stand.

She longed to kiss him, to hold him, to bask in his presence for a few precious moments. Yet there was no time to do anything but run as he pulled her away from Ren, who roared his displeasure, while Faltis remained unnervingly still and silent.

Despite the ongoing fight, the throng parted as it had on her entrance to the cavern. This time, it was her undead ancestors stepping out of her way and forcing the Order members with them.

Up close, the skeletons were less grotesque than Veanna had feared. Their bones were clean and their faces expressionless, unlike Ren's half-reformed visage that screamed after her. Most were bare and unarmed, but some wore pieces of armour and bore weapons that time had not yet claimed.

The battle was like someone trying to fight the sea - the Order had superior skill and power, but the force of the undead was unstoppable and unending. A skeleton beside her was blasted apart by a bolt of fire, only for the bones to rise and reform to resume the attack.

She pulled Jate to a stop near the edge of the cavern, a bubble of the undead forming protectively around them as she sheathed her sword with shaking hands. "You have a beard," she stammered numbly, pulling the pot of ointment from her pocket and coating both palms, the world moving too fast for her to process anything but the scraps of plans she could hold onto. "You're here."

His smile was warm and beautiful and heart-achingly familiar. "Of course." He proffered bandages from his own pockets and hurriedly bound her hands. "I brought these just in case. And I found some backup on my way."

Veanna followed his nod, her heart soaring once again to see her companions mingling with the skeletons in pushing the Order back. To her relief, they looked grim but unharmed, and the three of them stayed close together against the tide.

"Not just them," Jate said as he tied off her bandages.

She stared quizzically, but before she could question him a great battle cry echoed around the chamber. From entrances on every side, figures poured out of the shadows and into the fray. Their uniforms marked them as soldiers of Levea and despite the fear that shot through her chest, they positioned themselves firmly against the Order. Dozens of them flooded to join the fight, a wave of green that crashed into the stunned red-robed mages.

The cavern had been busy before, but now it was pure mayhem. The soldiers could be felled, but they had better weapons and a coordinated attack. The pitch of the battle rose, the shocked Order becoming panicked.

Veanna could hear commands being issued and easily recognised Torland with his dual swords, battling as fiercely as any of his subordinates. And fighting beside him, her eyes were drawn to the gleaming armour and emerald-encrusted sword of her father.