Page 3 of From Beneath the Moon

I crawl to the hay and collapse. I try to summon the Source, yet only wisps of smoke curl where the fire once was. I know I should be concocting a plan to escape—something—but my mind feels so distant. Torchlight flickers through the bars of my door. Steps shuffle outside, and I see a glimpse of auburn hair.

Auburn hair.

“Ragnar? Is that you?” My voice comes out hoarse and small.

He doesn’t respond, but I know it is him. How could one of our own betray the Watch like this? Betray a fellow champion?

“Let me out. You have to let me out of here.” Seconds pass with no response from Ragnar. “Please! I… I need to get out of here. Please, please.”

No response.

“We are on the same side, us Watchers.” I try every argument I can think of: our commitment to the Watch, to honor, to doing what’s right, to considering what our professors would think, to, to… I still can barely think. Part of me wonders if what I’m saying is even full sentences or just a string of syllables and sounds.

“Why?” is all I can muster, staring at the tiny tree of cracks clustering in the corner in the polished red stone.

I stare and stare and stare, reminding myself to blink. To breathe.

“Wake up!” There are two guards inside my cell.

They pull me up by the underarms, bruising with their aggressive grip. I tear my arms away and glare. One Underling chuckles darkly.

I have to find a way out of here. There must be another option.

I need to save my energy for wherever they are taking me. Save it for when I try to escape.

Because I will.

I will escape this fucking place.

I let them guide me out of the cell through a series of more flat red stone halls until we reach a circular room with a slanted wooden table in the middle, complete with iron chains.

They lead me to the table. I’m close enough to see the leather straps and iron clasped on the side.

Fear finds its way through my shield of numbness once again, but it’s okay because I feel… something. Even as I process it, I sense my mind working more quickly. Whatever drug they gave me is finally wearing off.

The black-bearded Underling clears his throat. “Your first mission as the Jord’s Starwatcher is to find something for us.”

So this is about me being a Starwatcher. They shove me toward the table, but I catch my balance. I don’t bother responding, instead spitting on the ground at his feet.

“You bitch!” Spittle flies from his mouth as his chest rises rapidly. He takes a slow, concentrated breath, as if trying to hold himself back from attacking me, and adds through his teeth, “Your powers allow you to see memories, correct?”

I weigh the pros and cons of lying and eventually settle on, “Yes.”

“Then use that pretty little head of yours to find something for our lord.” He shoves me backward until my knees buckle against something solid.

He pushes me onto the table, and I break my internal bargain to save energy. I scream and thrash against the leather strap now tightening on my forehead. Chains are fastened around my arms, waist, and ankles.

My effort is essentially worthless, and I fight the feeling of losing hope. I’m not a scared little girl in the northern Midland woods. And yet, how could all this training at the Watch amount to such helplessness when it matters most?

Anger cuts through my system like a knife. I take that feeling and hold it. Better anger than fear.

A second red-haired Oksvakt bends down over me, jowls shaking as he speaks. “Your first matter as Lord Rollo’s personal spymaster and Starwatcher is to locate the Cebalrai Stone.”

A distant memory tugs within me at the words.

“The last known location of the stone was sixty years ago in Westland human territory in the Battle of Kantonag, approximately twenty miles west of the Great Dried Lake. We have scoured the area, yet no great star stone remains. Someone took it, and we need to know who.”

These fuckers dare think I would help them? “No,” I say plainly in case their thick skulls cannot comprehend a larger word.