Page 2 of From Beneath the Moon

“LETMEGO!” I screech desperately, but it only comes out as a muffled cry around the gag in my mouth.

This cannot be happening.

I squirm as he lifts me onto… a carriage or a cart? I strain my ears to make sense of anything. Two sets of breaths: Lord Rollo and Ragnar. Growls come from the ground in front of me. Ghosthounds!

“For your loyalty,” Lord Rollo says to Ragnar from behind me. I hear the clink of coins, then large hands wrap around my waist, pulling me down… onto his lap. Bile rises to my throat, and my senses dull. “Take us to the Jord. To Varlok.”

“Yes, my lord,” Ragnar replies. Then I hear a snap of reins and a growl from the hounds, and the wind whips furiously around me.

“I’m taking you to my home, pet,” the Jord Lord whispers into my ear as he squeezes my torso so tightly my ribs strain.

Odd… I cannot seem to feel them. Something is off. My thoughts start to slur and swirl. I can feel myself slipping, but I need to know. I have to know.

“Why?” I manage to ask more with my expression than my distorted voice from around the filthy rag stuffed into my mouth.

The Underworld Lord seems to understand my question and leans in close, pressing his chest to my back. Spittle from his harsh whisper hits my ear. “Loved your little display at the third task, Starwatcher. We have a position for you in the Jord. A permanent one.”

The bile rises in earnest this time, and I gag, barely able to swallow my sickness back down. I refuse to squirm or move in this position, which would only press me further onto him.

I can only endure. I must endure.

I bang desperately on the window to my soul from somewhere outside myself. If only I could hear. If only I could move. My thoughts are thick with fog, unable to reach out to the stars, witnessing this from above. Traitorous stars.

“You will come to like Castle Varlok eventually.”

Even my tears aren’t allowed to fall, instead soaking into the blindfold. I try not to let the hopelessness sink in. But it’s there, at the edges of my mind, pulling me down, down, down.

I must endure.

I wake on the floor of a cart after what must have been hours of traveling. My blindfold and gag are gone. My hands, however, are still tied. Instinctively, I reach for the Source… nothing.

Careful not to move, I slowly open my eyes. The Jord Lord is sitting, legs spread wide, on the back bench of the cart. Large brown fur pelts are wrapped around his shoulders and tied at his waist by polished leather straps.

We are traveling in an underground passageway, lit by the faint white glow of the two massive ghosthounds pulling us. The walls of the passage curve high above us, disappearing into a darkness so heavy, only the occasional stalactite can pierce through.

The Jord Lord doesn’t acknowledge me as I watch. We turn down passageways, nearly indistinguishable beyond the ornate carvings in the rock. Even my still muted senses know that with each turn, we are sloping downward, descending slowly into the earth. Red lanterns mark the walls at occasional intervals, so I begin to count. Fifteen lanterns.

We must be getting closer. Forty-seven. The temperature continues to drop as we lower into the earth’s crust. Fifty-six. I have no more tears to shed, so instead, I look around and try to memorize everything as we pass. Seventy-seven. The path widens significantly as we approach two gargoyles carved from the stone of the cave.

One-hundred.

The gigantic creatures are snake-like, scaled with no legs, yet talon tipped wings jut out from above their coiled bodies.

The ghosthounds pull us between the large carvings, revealing the expansive cavern beyond. An entire town is carved into the hard stone. Ledges of thin roads zigzag up the sides of the cavern, spotted occasionally with doors and windows. Some smaller, ancient looking stone homes are at the bottom level, squeezed between shops and carts full of roasted meat, while other, more polished homes rise up toward the top.

We continue forward along the road. Jord Underlings keep to themselves, not greeting their lord as he enters, but rather jumping out of the way with looks of concern. Hundreds of small lanterns illuminate the town, accentuating the reddish stone that every home appears to be made of. We turn a corner, and I see it.

A slender bridge leads over a chasm to a castle carved in the face of the rock: Castle Varlok, home of Rollo, Lord of the Jord. The front face of the castle is made of squares stacked on top of one another, so large that only a giant could have possibly built this structure, and impossibly smooth. The dizzying height isn’t the strangest part about the structure, but rather the sparkling dark red of the stone. Like the entire castle is dripping in blood.

At our approach, the two guards stationed at the entrance of the bridge uncross their axes and step aside, clearing room for the cart to pass by. I peer over the side of the cart into the abyss below. There is nowhere to jump, nowhere to run to.

Multiple on-duty Oksvakt approach as we pull into the carriage port at the base of the castle. Two Jordish ghosthound keepers take the reins from Ragnar.

Without warning, gruff Underling hands drag me toward a back door. I thrash against their hold, which only irritates the Underling, causing him to tighten his grip even more. He guides me through various barren hallways of sparkling red stone. There are no servants, no court members, just smooth, polished rock. Eventually, I stop thrashing only to be shoved into a room ten paces by ten paces long moments later. I land on my side, splitting my chin on the hard floor next to the pile of straw. The black-bearded Underling presses his knee into my back, squeezing the air out of my lungs while untying the rope around my wrists.

If I could access my feelings right now, I think I would be frightened, but all I can feel is numbness, like a fog is descending over my brain, dampening all thoughts and feelings in a haze. One thing I know for sure is that I am so very, very tired.

“In you go, human scum,” he spits, kicking me into the cell further then slamming the door shut. I stare through the little barred window of the door and listen to the heavy, clomping footsteps steadily diminuendo until I’m surrounded by silence and stone.