Stealing the Dark Moon

How to Bargain with a Monster and Not end up Dinner

The lake portal opened into a field of sunflowers in the Mortal Realm. The Red Unicorn and his marauders surged forward, but their arrival was not the only disturbance to this nauseatingly pastoral setting. Most of the flowers had already been trampled flat by the boots and bodies of fallen soldiers. Mild amusement struck Lord Ash as they seemed to have landed in the midst of a massive battle—for puny humans, perhaps. Yet there was no pause as the herd streamed past the squabbling armies in the space of seven hoof beats; weak mortal eyes were unable to glimpse their quicksilver passage. No one would've ever known of their presence at all . . . but the clang of swords and spears annoyed Lord Ash.

No, that wasn't quite it. Something much more subtly insidious aggravated his mood: all that loud, crass breathing beating against his ears, reminding him of Highbolt's warning: "A child of mortals will steal all your dreams . . . ." The king's prophecies were never wrong. But Highbolt's vision was quite obviously a lie—the last desperate taunt of a dying fool.

Still, it irritated him.

Lord Ash wheeled around and doubled back to the squirming knot of warring mortals, leaving his marauders to watch. They knew better than to bother him when he wanted fresh red. Bold gold-trimmed banners shredded in the blink of an eye, cannons exploding and soldiers flying through the air like ants in a whirlwind. Lord Ash's horn slashed through metal and bone with an edge keener than a sizzling wire of lightning. He left neither army a moment to raise a single spear or sword in defense—

Not even a second to scream.

A few sunflowers that had escaped being trodden underfoot nodded serenely in the sudden silence, their petals dripping with a pleasant dew of liquid rubies. The Red Unicorn also gleamed with a bright new scarlet coat as he rejoined his marauders in high spirits once more. Now he had proof enough of Highbolt's lie—no spawn of creatures so easily crushed would ever take away the prize he'd waited centuries to obtain.

***

The thunderstorm lashed slimy wet branches against the six Silver Pennies as they trudged ever deeper into the Galefang. Kit supposed they should be grateful; the downpour had sent all sensible monsters scrambling for their burrows and drowned out the scent of juicy orphans on the breeze. But they'd hardly gone a half mile before Tad fell into a wheezing fit, shivering and coughing uncontrollably.

"Here," Kit said, handing Charles his crutch and fumbling to unlatch the buttons of his ragged jacket with clumsy, icy-numb fingers. "I'll give Tad my jacket—"

Charles shoved the crutch back. "No, let me. I've got my sandskin, after all," he said with a fanged grin. "I'm ten times stronger than you soft tenderskins, probably twenty." His boast was a lie, of course—the hard serpent scales that had covered Charles's arms when he first came to the orphanage had long since shrunk to teal flecks under his dark olive skin. Mazak shed their reptilian armor the longer they lived away from their native land, but Kit knew that it would crush Charles if he dared to question the strength of his blood. So he let the Mazak boy strip off his jacket and tie a makeshift cape around Tad's head and shoulders.

But Kit couldn't resist a little teasing. "Twenty times stronger?" he prodded.

"On my good days," Charles shot back confidently between thunderclaps.

Minnow reluctantly surrendered her charge to Lil and Vi, who took turns carrying Tad on their backs as they continued onwards.

But they all went sprawling as a bolt of lightning hit a tree thirty feet away and the shock knocked them off their feet. Before any of them could rise, a silver stag leapt from the blasted remains of the tree with green flames dancing on the edges of its antlers. It was the most exquisite animal Kit had ever seen and he wished he could stare at it forever. But the stag bolted as a massive ogress with gray muscles rippling like boulders burst from the brush. Raising her snout, the ogress let off a fierce bellow. Another flash of lightning pierced the sky, illuminating the rough-hewn amethysts set in her intricately carved tusks. Kit shuddered as the ogress plunged after the stag.