Sorcerer’s Moon: Part Three of the Boreal Moon Tale
The stunning conclusion to a powerful epic fantasy from the worldwide bestselling author of the Saga of the Pliocene Exile.For sixteen years King Conrig Ironcrown has ruled High Blenholme, battling both to preserve the Sovereignty he ruthlessly established over the four provinces of the island kingdom and to repel the invading Salka monsters that threaten them all. His hope for the future is his heir, Prince Orrion, whose betrothal to a princess of the province of Didion should assure the future peace of High Blenholme. But Orrion has no interest in the girl, and is determined to marry instead his childhood sweetheart, Lady Nyla.Orrion's madcap twin, Corodon, dreams up a scheme to keep Orry and Nyla together by asking the supernatural Beaconfolk, who appear as lights in the sky, for a magical intercession. The twins are unaware that the Beaconfolk are fighting their own battle with others of their kind; to them all humans, even princes, are but pawns to be used in their own conflict. Their granting of Orrion's wish comes in a manner the twins far from expected, and precipitates chaotic infighting amongst the folk of High Blenholme.As battles rage both on the ground and in the sky, the only hopes for peace can be found deep in King Conrig’s murky past. His former spy, Deveron Austrey, has secret magical powers and no love for the Beaconfolk. And while many of his subjects no longer remember the King's first wife, Maudrayne, she has never forgotten that her son is the true heir to the throne of High Blenholme.
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Sorcerer’s Moon
THE BOREAL MOON TALE BOOK THREE
Julian May
As our valiant warriors proceed inland in the conquest of High Blenholme Island, I command that all inactive moonstone amulets discovered on the dead bodies of our Salka foe be smashed into dust and scattered to the Boreal Winds, for the sorcery they conjure is an abomination and a mortal danger to all thinking creatures – be they human or nonhuman.
– BAZEKOY, Emperor of the World
Table of Contents
The Royal Intelligencer
With evening, the incessant warm rain that had plagued us for three days stopped, the sky cleared at last, and I caught a glimpse of the rising moon. Its position confirmed the fear that had haunted me since morning. We were traveling in the wrong direction, going north instead of south. We were lost.
Even worse, I was now positive that something was stalking us. It was very large, clever enough to stay hidden in the thick brush along the shore, and it betrayed itself only rarely by unnatural movements of the greenery or a slight sound –
Like that! The faint crack of a broken stick.
I stopped paddling and the skiff drifted to a halt. I peered into shadowy undergrowth a dozen ells away and cupped a hand about my ear, straining to listen. There was no wind. The waters of the lake were flat calm. Save for the faraway wailing cry of a black-throated diver bird, the silence was absolute. My normal senses perceived nothing. Once again, I tried without success to summon my talent, but my uncanny abilities were still too weak even to scry through the flimsy barrier of reeds and shrubs into the boreal forest beyond.
Yet instinct assured me that the stalker was there, watching us.
The sky overhead had turned to deepest blue, with a few scattered stars beginning to appear. On my right hand the full Harvest Moon rose, brilliantly white, through the raggedy ranks of spruce trees that topped the ridge alongside the narrow lake. I looked toward the opposite shore and beheld a wonderful thing in the sky above it – a great arc of pearly light spread across the retreating bank of rainclouds in the west.
I must have exclaimed at the sight of it, waking her. Induna stirred in the bottom of the boat, uncovered her head, which had been shielded from the rain by blankets and an oilskin cloak, and lifted herself painfully on one elbow.
‘Deveron?’ Her voice was low and anxious. ‘Is something wrong?’
For the moment, I dodged the question. ‘Look over there. It’s a moon bow.’
‘How beautiful. I’ve heard of them but never seen one before. They’re supposed to portend great good luck.’
I thought: We have sore need of that, beyond doubt!
Even as we watched, the marvel began to fade. It was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. I took up the water-flask and bent over the woman who should have been my wife sixteen years ago, who had already given up so much for my sake and who now might be rewarded only with gruesome death. Induna lay with her head pillowed on a pack. She had been asleep for hours, still recovering from the sacrifice made shortly after our arrival in this forsaken wilderness three days earlier.
I said, ‘Take some water, love. I’ll help you to sit up.’
The boat rocked as we shifted position. It was a flat-bottomed skiff of the unique Andradhian style, made of tough sheets of thin bark, pointed at both ends. The Boatwright I’d bought it from had intended it for the jungle streams of the distant Southern Continent; but being lightweight and easy to portage, it was also the perfect craft for voyaging among the bewildering maze of bogs, rivers and chains of lakes that comprised the forbidding Green Morass of northern Didion.
Induna drank only a little before sinking back onto her improvised cushion with a sigh. ‘I feel stronger. The sleep did me good. I think I’ll be able to eat something tonight. Will we be going ashore soon? My poor bladder is nigh bursting.’
I pointed to a small wooded island that lay off the bow. ‘We’ll camp there, rather than on the mainland. I…think something might be following the boat along the shore, keeping out of sight.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Is it an animal?’
‘Perhaps not. It tracks us very slyly. It’s best that we not take chances.’
‘So you can’t oversee what it might be?’
I began to paddle again, digging briskly. ‘My wind-sensibilities are still useless, even though my physical strength now seems completely restored, thanks to you.’
‘How long has this creature been trailing us?’
‘God only knows. I became aware of it this morning, shortly after we embarked from the last campsite, but it might have been pursuing us for longer, hidden by the mist and rain. It’s a sizable thing, probably much larger than a human being. I pray it’s only a curious brown bear or wandering tundra-lion. I can fend a beast off easily with a few firebolts from my crossbow.’
