The Moon's Eye, A.J. Calvin [early readers txt] 📗

EXCERPT

Aran’daj grinned as the eastern horizon lightened and the golden orb of the sun began to emerge over the barren stretches of the Wasted Land. Each Commander had set their men into ranks and Shan’tar had just reentered his tent to retrieve his belongings. Aran’daj waited, anticipating the next few moments, as the army gradually fell silent as it awaited Shan’tar’s orders.
The mad wizard emerged from his tent in a rage, upholding the wooden box Aran’daj had broken into an hour earlier. He raised his arms, still holding the box, and threw his head back with a savage roar, his hood falling back to reveal his pale face. He turned furious eyes upon his army, looking hard at each Commander in turn. “Betrayers!” He roared.
Aran’daj smiled, though he knew none could see it. He then reached inside his hood and clutched the teardrop-shaped stone tightly while muttering a chant he had learned from his grandmother as a child. This would call the Great Ones to him, resurrecting them once more to fight for the world that was rightfully theirs.
Shan’tar turned in his direction, and stared with perfectly sane eyes. Falling to his knees in defeat, he raised an arm toward the lightening sky. There was a flash of white and Shan’tar was naught more than a smoldering heap.
Aran’daj watched this calmly, his chant rising to a near howl. Around him the soldiers milled about, muttering amongst themselves, but he ignored them. Calling the true masters of his race was the only important thing to him, what others thought did not matter.
As the chant reached its climax, his work began to show results. Thunderclouds built suddenly in the sky, shielding his eyes from the hated glare of the sun momentarily before even brighter lightning began to flash. Thunder crashed overhead, deafening to all ears. Aran’daj silently thanked his Masters for answering so quickly and eagerly. It seemed to him they were awaiting this next chance to reign supreme.
The earth began to tremble, and before him the ground began to crack, opening up and swallowing itself. A moment later and the five Great Ones rose from the gaping earth and the trembling ceased while the hole became once again solid ground.
One of the two women among the five, who was of average height, had dark hair and cruel green eyes, stepped forward. She studied him for a moment then laid a hand on his shoulder. “I would like to thank you for releasing us once more,” she said with a smile that never touched her eyes.
Suddenly, Aran’daj writhed in pain, a pain so incredible it brought tears to the warrior’s eyes as it radiated through every inch of him from the woman’s fingertips. Again, she smiled, her green eyes regarding him in all his pain with a cruel indifference.
“I am afraid, Commander, that I cannot allow you to live. You betrayed the leader of your past; you may well attempt to betray the leaders of your present. Look well, Commander, at the last thing you will ever see.”
Dranamir returned to the Tower of Obsidian along with the others, for the first time in over two centuries. Their customary meeting place could not be reached by any but themselves, the past Voided Ones. It was a large, rectangular room below the tower’s underground level, furnished with thick rugs on the floor and now-faded tapestries on the walls.
As Alyra entered the room, their age-old feud was rekindled. “Dranamir, why did you kill that Murkog Commander? He brought us back! You had no reason to—“
“Alyra,” Dranamir cut off the dark-skinned, very beautiful woman, “he was a betrayer by nature. He would have betrayed us as easily as he did Shan’tar. You watched the spectacle from our prison as well as I did.”
Alyra glared in her direction. “You realize that Shan’tar was not completely mad, Dranamir? He was fighting it. He was completely sane when he killed himself. He knew what would happen after Aran’daj finished the chant. Perhaps Aran’daj merely betrayed him because he did not fully trust him. You still had no reason to destroy him.”
The tallest of the men, Kama, spoke up. He had a long, angular face, dark hair and eyes, and a semi-dark complexion. When he spoke, it was with the rapid and slightly harsh accent of those native to Kamshat. “I believe the man deserved death. He was a betrayer by nature.”
Dranamir smiled at him, but as was her nature, it did not touch her cold green eyes. Turning to face Alyra once more, she said, “You never cease to amaze me with your soft-heartedness. It is one quality you could afford to lose.”
Another of the men, Jannyn, spoke in defense of Alyra. Jannyn was of average height and stocky, had dark hair and blue eyes in a pale face. “Dranamir, you could afford to lose some of your savagery. But what is done, is in the past. There is no changing it.”
The last of the men, small and frail-seeming, had pale blond hair, gray eyes, and pale skin. He was Garin, and had been selected as the peacekeeper between them. He remained always neutral between the two women, and he never showed any interest in joining either side as the other men sometimes did. Fighting angered him, and today was no different.
“Still, you insist on fighting amongst yourselves. Never will we be able to take what is rightfully ours if we cannot work together.”

Text: Available on Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, and bbotw.com
Publication Date: 01-15-2009

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