The Secrets of the Moonstone Heir: Book One of The Scale Seekers Page 6

  Ayu grabbed her arm with a massive hand. He groaned.

  “Why is it you want to change how you look so badly?”

  He hung his head again, and murmured something. Usually it was serious when he murmured.

  Desert Rain was sure she had misunderstood him at first. She blinked in surprise, and eventually said, “I don’t see why you want to look like me. Look, I got these long ears, and the fingered feet, and the weird eyes. It’s all very bizarre, to say the least.” She laughed lightly. “You’re so tired, you’re talking nonsense. Come on, some fresh air will wake you up.”

  Desert Rain took Ayu by the arm and led him along, up and out of the burrows and out into the desert. The morning sky was an ice-gray, the sands a mellow tangerine, and smoky clouds were rolling in from the west. They walked along for a bit, and Desert Rain got lost in

  thought. Ayu fell behind her, scanning her from behind. He gazed at her feet, her hands, her shoulders. He noted all these things on himself too. His eyes trailed down her back, the curve of her spine, and he tried to stand up straighter, pulling his shoulders back the way she did. Then he looked down at himself. He saw his tattoos on his chest. Desert Rain did not have such markings. The man with no face had said something about the markings too, had pointed out that they made Ayu something different…something bad.

  Desert Rain was caught off guard when she heard Ayu’s whimpers. She turned around to see him scratching the tattoos on his chest with his claws. Blood was trailing down his front.

  “Ayu! What are you doing??” She ran over to him, and desperately tried to stop him. He dug his claws deep into his flesh, and it took all of Desert Rain’s strength to pull them out. Finally she got him to relinquish, and he slumped over, dizzy from the pain.

  “What were you thinking?” Desert Rain demanded after she had gotten him back to the burrow, sat him down and cleaned his wounds.

  Ayu sat on the floor unmoving, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

  “You suddenly got the idea you didn’t want your tattoos anymore?”

  He sighed heavily.

  Desert Rain rubbed a hand over her eyes, which she found to be moist. “I didn’t know how much this ‘shape shifting’ wish meant to you. You just want to fit in, don’t you? Not feel like the only one in the whole world who looks like you…” She sighed. “I suppose if a new look is truly what you want, I could figure out something.” She pondered for a while, and then an excited light glimmered in her eyes. “I know! We could find a spellcaster to perform a skin-molding on you. I’ve seen it before. They enchant a piece of clothing or animal skin, and when you put it on, it creates a sort of ‘illusionary skin’ for the wearer. You can look like whatever is in your mind’s eye. It’s just what you need!”

  Then her smile fell as she thought a bit longer. She knew that no spellcaster of any merit would service a Wretched, and even if one would, such a trick was not guaranteed to be

  permanent. Spellcasters were students of the New Magic—flashy, entertaining, much easier to learn and control than the Ancient Magics, but not as powerful or enduring, so oftentimes their effects did not last for long. Most people who wanted to be spellcasters practiced out of curiosity or for a career in theatrical illusion-making, not for serious sorcery. Those who wished to venture into the secrets of Ancient Magic had to do so on their own, by seeking out an experienced magic user to tutor them privately. Such magic was viewed as dangerous by many of the Noble Races; the Court of Darkscale was the basis of these fears. Those demons made it a priority to learn the most intricate of New Magics to intimidate their enemies. There were rumors that some had obtained the knowledge of Ancient Magic, but anyone who would have witnessed a Darkscale demon perform such power would not live to tell the tale.

  That was not to say that those who dedicated their lives to the Ancient Magic would use it for evil. There were good wizards and witches scattered throughout Luuva Gros who rendered services to the inquisitive and needy. There was a favorite saying among many spellcasters when it came to their craft: “Everything you see is an illusion—but it can be true if you believe it so.” As for advanced enchantments such as skin-molding, the spellcasting schools must have made it clear that such tricks were reserved for especially gifted students, and when there was a good amount of trust that it would not be used foolishly. Plus, skin-molding another person was a completely different matter from skin-molding oneself. What a spellcaster did to himself, that was his prerogative. What spells he performed to play a Deity would not be tolerated, even if it was in good interest.

  “Maybe I could find a spellcasting book in Syphurius,” Desert Rain said. “It may not make too much sense without the proper training, but maybe there’s something simple we could figure out. I mean, anyone can become a spellcaster. It’s not like learning Ancient Magic.”

  Ayu made a questioning grunt.

  “Oh, Syphurius? It has everything. It’s a lovely city.” She was quiet, thinking about the Rite of Roses for a minute. “Maybe after we change how you look, you could come along with me sometime. I know you’d like it.”

  Ayu grunted solemnly.

  “Sure we’ll figure out how to change you. I know it seems impossible, but I figure that if you want it that badly, maybe luck will shine on us.”

  Ayu made a snarl.

  “I know it doesn’t seem luck has been kind to you. I’m trying to do all I can to help you. Believe me, if I could put skin-molding knowledge into your head, I would—” A bolt of genius struck her. “Hey, I know what we could do! I could buy you a memory.”

  Ayu looked at her blankly, his jaw slightly dropped.

  “Last time I was in Syphurius, there was a small vending stand that sold memories. I guess some people don’t want to remember some things, so they sell those memories and other people buy them. Maybe the seller will have a spellcaster’s memory, one about skin-molding. That way, all you have to do is put the memory in your head and you’ll know how to do it.”

  Ayu twisted his black lips up, which was the best he could do for a smile.

  “I admit, something like that won’t come cheap, but I could probably bring some artifacts I dug up to trade, maybe a few rings or some beads. Oh, I’m so excited now! But if we’re going to give you a makeover, you should decide what you want to be.”

  Ayu moaned.

  “Yes, you already told me. But you could certainly look like someone better than me. You don’t know your options yet.” She went over to her bookcase, an arrangement of books she had

  acquired from various shops, some that she had written herself, but there was a special collection on the topmost shelf. These were meant to be kept secret, for they were her volumes of notes from the private lessons given to her by her Hij-Urawran so long ago. She pulled out a thick leather-bound anthology from amidst this collection—it was detailed information about the various cultures in Luuva Gros. She sat next to Ayu, flipping the book open to a certain chapter.

  “This is a book of Luuva’s history. It talks about all the people we have here.” She set the book in front of him. “Look, we have humans, and elves, and Yopeis-Gichen…I don’t think Yopeis is for you, though, unless you like huge fins on your head…Falcolin, that might be nice. There are a few families of Stonebreakers left, maybe you’d like to try that. They’re a bit hard-headed, though…I mean, stubborn, although they do break rocks with their heads…” Desert Rain giggled, not intending to have made that joke. “I don’t recommend you looking like one of the Bayou Folk, or the Ablaze outcasts. They’re what we call ‘Lejenous.’ You don’t get much respect being a lesser race. And I wouldn’t get any hopes up about becoming a Sage. That’s impossible…that would require magic beyond any mortal’s knowledge.”

  Ayu looked at the pictures in the book, staring in wonder at the different races and people. He looked at Desert Rain, and tapped on the book.

  “I…I’m not in here. I mean, not the way I am now.” Desert Rain replied, closing the book. She grinned at him. “So,
that’ll give you something to think about. Tomorrow I’ll go to Syphurius and try to find a memory, but I can’t make any promises that I can find the right thing. I’ll probably be gone a few days, maybe four or five. I’ll see if I can buy some salve for your muscle aches too, something better than my rose oil. Please stay close to home while I’m gone, okay?”

  Ayu licked her hand with his long dark tongue.

  “You’re welcome.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Threat in the Pass

  Splashing up sand as it galloped along, a peach-colored Laspher sprinted across the desert, its polished antlers reflecting a green shine in the sunlight, as it carried a rider on its back. There is something odd about Lasphers, not because they are unlike any other antelope in that they can stand harsh desert conditions, but because of the specific method one must apply to catch one. They are not fond of other beings, but for some reason they can be tamed by anyone who can place a gold ring on the tip of one antler. It is believed that Lasphers were once aquatic spirits who lusted for treasures at the bottom of the ocean, but they were changed during the Great Manifestation to roam on land, so any token of gold or jewel would earn their alliance. One would have to be very fast to put a ring on a Laspher’s antler, of course, which was why Desert Rain was perhaps the one person who could tame a Laspher.

  As the Laspher bounded along, Desert Rain tried her best to keep the armful of fresh mauve desert roses clung to her chest, inhaling their wonderful fragrance. The roses bloomed once every so often near the dunes, sometimes but once a year, so Desert Rain tried her best to gather them when she could. They could also last a good while after picked, sometimes months, and they required little water. They would also be a rare find in Syphurius, and a florist would pay a nice sum for such unique blossoms.

  By the eve of the first traveling day, the burning sand morphed into warm, red rock. Here, the land was littered with tall rock formations, pillars of bloodstone and boulders sitting like tired wise men. The occasional Bramblecut bush and knots of yellow grass popped up here and there, signs of vegetation to come much farther on. Off in the far distance, Desert Rain could make out the chain of the Azokind Mountains. She wondered if she might catch a glimpse of Rukna the Mountain Hijn, Clova’s stepbrother. He spent most of his time in the highest caves overlooking Vaes Galahar, the City of the Peaks, but he enjoyed traveling the chain even as far as the overlap into the Floating Forest. Desert Rain made a small smile as she thought of him. Rukna was a hefty form of muscle, but for all his impressive appearance, his occasional falling off and rolling down the mountainside made him renowned as a bit of a fool.

  This plain of dry earth was dangerous territory. Desert Rain wanted to get through it as soon as she could, and by the quickening pace of her Laspher, so did it. By nightfall they had not exited the wasteland, so Desert Rain took the chance of setting up a humble camp amidst a cluster of rock pillars.

  Desert Rain managed to build a meek fire, for although there were not any good trees for wood, the bushes and dry grasses provided enough twigs and kindling to get it going. The

  Laspher settled down by the fire, while Desert Rain lied back against one of the tall pillars. She wrapped her shawl over her head for protection against the night wind, and she patted the bundle of roses at her knee, happy that the petals had not started to drop yet. She looked up at the sky and started to read the stars. People often got confused when she said she read the stars. She could not use them to tell the future, like most star-readers did, but followed the patterns to see the tales of the past. This is from where she got most of the stories she told the Ulomin children. She looked up and the sky and recounted the tale of the trials of the Water Weaver, a constellation that Merros the Ocean Rider would point out to her quite fondly.

  The fire suddenly crackled and sparked as something from above hit it. Desert Rain froze. The Laspher jerked its head up. Desert Rain slowly raised her eyes to look up the pillar. The sight that met her eyes was a humanoid animal, the dim light washing over the face of what was either a gargantuan rat or a huge dog. The murky gray-brown fur, the bristly muzzle and the pointed ears made it hard to tell. Its beady eyes laughed at her, and it grinned serrated dirt-brown teeth. It reached down at her with a muscular hand of chipped claws. “Well well well,” it snarled, “Looky what I found, brothers.”

  Two more animals appeared from behind surrounding pillars. These were a little different, one being slimmer and having black fur, and the other being smaller with dirtied gray-

  white fur. Their faces did not provide any more clues to whether they were rat-men or dog-men.

  “What do you think it is?” asked the slim one.

  “YUMBA TOAD, YUMBA TOAD!” squeaked the small one. “IT’S A YUMBA TOAD!”

  “You always say it’s a toad, Gank,” the first one said, leaping down from the pillar and extinguished Desert Rain’s fire under his foot. “I think it’s a lost little nomad we have here. Are you all alone?”

  Desert Rain’s eyes widened close to the point of falling out of their sockets. If these animals could see her ears under the shawl, they would have seen them flatten rigidly against her head.

  “Aw, for me?” The brown one grabbed the roses and sniffed them with his slimy nose. “That’s sweet of you.”

  “SWEET LIKE BEETLE GUTS,” Gank piped.

  Desert Rain snatched back the roses, which irked the were-creature. He shook his shaggy head, and then bared his teeth at her. “Ain’t you got a lot of nerve, taking what belongs to a Vermin.”

  “These aren’t yours,” Desert Rain said, but she couldn’t hide the squeak of fear in her voice.

  “Finders keepers. Speaking of which…” He leaned in close to her face, sniffing and snorting snot onto her. He pressed his nose against her forehead, right where her shawl covered her moonstone. Desert Rain shut her eyes tightly, and thought she might pass out from the foulness of his breath.

  “Come on, Goude,” the black-furred Vermin said. “Don’t hog her all for yourself.”

  “You’ll get your share,” he sneered. He pressed Desert Rain’s head into the pillar, pinning her. His tongue slithered out from his smile and licked her from her chin to the tip of her nose. “I want to see if this one will fight back some.”

  Desert Rain knew he could probably hear her blood rushing wildly through her body. She knew that these Vermins were one of the unnamed races, the Lejenous, “lesser ones.” These were creatures that normally huddled in solitary areas far away from the Noble Cities, and they were so disliked, the Noble Races refused to even acknowledge them with separate labels for their many species. These three were one kind of Lejenous, and what they were doing way out in the passage between the desert and Malthic Valley, Desert Rain had no idea. This place was too uninhabitable, even for Lejenous.

  Gank jumped up onto Goude’s shoulders. “I WANT MY SHARE NOW!”

  Goude reared back and threw him off. “Shut up, pipsqueak. You won’t get anything if you piss me off. Gimch, what part of her do you want?”

  Gimch sauntered over, nudging Goude aside. “Her skin might make a nice pair of boots. And maybe one of her legs for a snack.” He grabbed her right leg and lifted her upside down into the air so the crown of her head touched the ground.

  Guerda-Shalyr, I’m going to have to do it, aren’t I? Desert Rain clung to her roses, clenching her teeth, as the hot taste of bile crept up her throat. She wasn’t afraid for herself – if these

  dog-men intended to eat her, they would never get the chance to lay a tooth on her. She would have to do what she had to, the last resort. The last resort was the whole reason she kept away from people, the whole reason she never wanted to accept she was Hijn.

  I destroy things. How is that good?

  Despite the heat in her gut, the ancient words were already bubbling up on her tongue, the sensation of a thousand needles tingling in her fingers, the image in her mind prophesizing these three brothers’ faces frozen in an eternal scream as the burning
magic coursed from her to them…the pain wouldn’t be long, but it would be beyond bearable.

  But then she looked over to the Laspher. It had not gotten up to run or threaten the intruders with its sharp antlers, which Lasphers would normally do when in danger. It simply remained still, and Desert Rain wondered if this was because it felt no danger from these beasts. Lasphers could be intuitive.

  The screaming in her mind ceased, and she relaxed.

  “What the furball is this?” Desert Rain heard Gimch say, and she felt him pull at her finger-toes. “These ain’t human or elf feet.”

  He dropped Desert Rain onto her back, and Goude grabbed her by the shoulder and sat her up. Her shawl fell off, and her moonstone was visible. Goude took a good look at the

  gem, and at her eyes. He reeled back quickly.

  “It’s one of them dragon people!” he barked.

  The Vermins stepped back a few more paces, and stared at her, speechless. Desert Rain felt relieved, and yet pitied them. They recognized she was a Hijn, but rather than being respectful, they were afraid – then again, the line between the two was thin. If they really had come from the Land Ablaze, then they probably knew of Fierno Ginso and Guargos Blazetamer, the Hijns of Fire and Metal, and how aggressive they could be. This was an opportune moment to run, but if she did, then the Vermins might catch on that she wouldn’t use her powers and chase after her, and now that she was exhausted from traveling all day, they might catch her.

  Goude finally spoke up. “We’re sorry, Miss Dragon-lady. Please don’t call any of your friends over with your brain or nothing. We weren’t going to hurt you, honest.”

  This was a new one. Desert Rain had never heard of people believing Hijn spoke to each other through telepathy.

  “Don’t set us on fire,” Gank said, being soft-spoken for the first time.