Moon: Dragon Moon Part 1

DRAGON MOON.

by Ruth Glick.

CHAPTER ONE.

HIS NAME WAS Vandar, and he was a creature from an ancient nightmare. A creature who had lived for centuries relying on his psychic powers, his cunning.

Now he lifted his ma.s.sive head and roared for the pleasure of feeling his slaves cringe.

In his present incarnation, he was a huge, scaled being with glittering red eyes, a reptilian body, and wings shaped like those of a bata"only enormously larger. But he was just as likely to take human form.

Leaping into the air, he circled his lair, looking down with a feeling of satisfaction as he churned up the chemicals in his belly, then spewed out a blast of fire that singed the already blackened landscape.

His huge mouth stretched into a parody of a smile as he viewed the circle of destruction. It was a warning to any enemies who dared approach this blighted place. And a warning to the slaves who lived in the huge cave he had blasted out of a mountainside. If any tried to escape, he could turn them to ash as easily as he had charred the land.

Now he was widening his circle of influence, not just here but into a world parallel to this one. A world where the people would be helpless to fight him.

But he hadnat lived for more than a thousand years by leaping unprepared into the unknown.

As he flew over his territory, he thought of the tasks that must be accomplished before the big invasion. He had already started his preparations for the a.s.sault by sending spies to the other universe. They were all men who had stayed for a few days and come back to give him a sense of the place. In the next phase, his agent would remain longer and provide a more detailed report.

And this time he would send an attractive woman because she would seem weak and vulnerable, yet her pretty face, s.e.xy figure, and psychic powers would give her an advantage over the men she met.

Satisfied with the plan, he circled back and landed in the ceremonial site fifty yards from the mouth of his cave. Lifting his head to the skies, he roared out four notes. Two long and two short. A signal to the people who did his bidding.

Three hundred slaves instantly dropped what they were doing and hurried to answer his call.

One by one and in groups, they stepped outside the cave, blinking in the morning sunshine.

He watched their stiff postures, their wary eyes as they stood in their color-coded tunics. White for adepts. Gray for house servants. Brown for those who did the dirtiest jobs like washing the floors and mucking out the toilets. And burgundy for his troops.

They knew what was coming, and they cringed, even as they came toward him with hesitant steps.

Standing before them, he began to change form. His wings folded inward. His claws and his great tail retracted back into his body. The shape of his torso shrunk and trans.m.u.ted into the incarnation he used when he walked among his minions.

He was vulnerable when he changed, but they didnat know that, and they trembled as he transformed from silver-scaled monster to a tall, dark-haired man. He stood before them naked for several moments, letting them take in his well-muscled body with its impressive male equipment.

Satisfied that they had had enough time to contemplate his magnificence, he snapped his fingers. Two blond-haired women clad in white came forward and walked to the carved wooden chest where he kept a set of clothing. From its depths, one of them removed a long black tunic of fine linen, edged with gold braid. As he held out his arms, one of them slipped the garment over his head and the other knelt and strapped a pair of supple leather sandals onto his feet.

When he was dressed and theyad stepped back into the crowd, he turned and smiled at the waiting throng, feeling the waves of tension rolling toward him.

They knew he would feed now. On one of them. He could have done that in his dragon form, of course. But this was so much more intimate, and it impressed upon them that, even when he looked like a man, he was as far above them as an eagle was above an ant.

Long moments pa.s.sed as he let them sweat. Let them wonder which of them he would select. And why.

A man or a woman?

They didnat know he had already made that decision. In his mind, he kept a running a.s.sessment of his slavesa deedsa"of the times they pleased him and of their transgressions. One man above all the others had earned the privilege of partic.i.p.ating in this ceremony.

Finally, he raised his voice. aBendel, come forward.a The man gasped. Everyone else breathed out a sigh of relief.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then Bendel broke and ran.

Vandar was ready for the slaveas futile bid for freedom. His tongue flicked out, lengthening like a whip, catching the man and pulling him back.

Bendelas face turned white. His eyes were wide and pleading.

aWere you foolish enough to think you could outrun me?a Vandar murmured, his voice silky. aAnd foolish enough to steal food from the larder?a The slaveas jaw worked, but no words came out of his mouth.

Vandar spread his lips, baring his teeth as he sent out his fangs, his gaze never leaving the manas terrified eyes. Grabbing his victimas hair, he arched his neck before sinking his fangs into the pale flesh.

The first draft of blood sent a burst of warmth through him. He felt the life-giving liquid flow into his mouth, down his throat, and into his stomach.

The nourishment brought him a satisfying glow of energy. In his childhood, he hadnat known what kind of creature he really was, and he had subsisted on a human diet. He could still eat small amounts of food and drink if he wanted. He had tried wine made from grapes and other fruit, and to his taste buds, the wine had a tang that was similar to blood.

He could have spared his victimas life. Draining the life-blood from any one individual wasnat necessary to quench his thirst. He didnat even need to drink human blood. An animal would do. But an animal could not fear him with the intellect of a man, and that was part of the pleasure for him. He loved feeling a victimas terror swell, then the inevitable acceptance as his life force slipped away.

When he had drained the last drop of sweet-tasting nectar, he cast the husk of the body onto the ground and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic before raising his head to stare at the other slaves.

As he searched their faces, he let the moment stretch, prolonging the little ceremony and impressing the gravity of the occasion on the group of terrified watchers. Then he snapped his fingers, calling on the two men who would take out the garbage.

FEELING an unaccustomed restlessness, Talon Marshall exited the former hunting lodge where he lived in the woods of rural Pennsylvania and walked to a stand of pines that head planted years ago. In maturity, they formed a tight circle, shielding him from view. But there was one place where he had trimmed some lower branches so it was easy to push through.

Once inside, he pulled off his clothes and stowed them in the wooden storage box head built. Standing naked among the pines, he enjoyed the feel of the humid air on his well-muscled body.

Did normal men chafe at the confinement of clothing? Did they long for the freedom that he had claimed for himself?

In a clear voice, he began to say the ancient words that had turned the men of the Marshall family into werewolves since Druid times.

aTaranis, Epona, Cerridwen,a he chanted, repeating the phrase and going on to another.

aGa. Feart. Cleas. Duais. Aithriocht. Go gc.u.mhdai is dtreorai na deithe thu.a The human part of his mind screamed in protest as bones crunched, muscles jerked, and cells transformed from one shape to another.

No matter how many times he changed form, it was never easy to feel his jaw elongate, his teeth sharpen, his body contort as muscles and limbs transformed themselves.

The first time, head been terrified that the pain would kill hima"the way it had killed his older brother.

But head willed himself to steadiness, and once head understood what to expect, head learned to rise above the terrifying physical sensations.

Thick gray hair formed along his flanks, covering his body in a silver-tipped pelt. The colora"the very structurea"of his eyes changed as he dropped to all fours. A magnificent beast of the forest. Unrecognizable as a member of the human race.

With the transformation completed, everything changed. In animal awareness, he lifted his head and dragged in the familiar smells of the forest: leafy vegetation, rotting leaves, and the creatures that made their homes here.

Racing past a stand of oaks, he caught the scent of a fox and automatically corrected his course to follow the trail. The animal gave a good chase, taking him to a patch of wilderness that he hadnat visited in months.

As he stopped for a moment, breathing hard, a scent came to him. Not a familiar odor. Something that didnat belong in this wilderness environment.

A threat?

Slowly, he walked around the area, sniffing, until he came to a place where the forest floor had been disturbed. As he pawed the earth, he found it was soft, with leaves brushed over the top to hide freshly disturbed dirt.

The wolf dug down several inches, sure there was something buried here that didnat belong in the woods. A body? Or something that might leach into the soil, spreading poison?

He dragged in more of the scent and decided it wasnat anything that had been alive. But that was as far as he could go as a wolf. He needed hands to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Turning, he raced back the way head come, to the circle of pine trees where he pushed through the change. As soon as he had morphed back to his human form, he pulled on his clothing, then strode to the five-door garage where he kept his outdoor equipment: some of it for his businessa"leading wilderness expeditionsa"and some of it for maintaining the property around the lodge.

With a short-handled shovel slung easily over his shoulder, he strode back to the place where head pawed the earth.

His human senses were no longer as keen. But he dragged in a draft of the forest air and looked around carefully before beginning to dig in earnest, scooping out the dirt and piling it to the right of the hole where he could easily replace it when he was finished.

When the shovel sc.r.a.ped against something hard, he widened the hole around the object. Then, using the shovel as a lever, he pried up a metal box, which he hauled out and set on the ground.

Obviously, the box was private property, but it was buried on public land. With the shovel blade, he whacked at the padlock securing the top until the hasp broke. Then he knelt and lifted the lid.

What he saw inside made his breath catch.

CHAPTER TWO.

AS SHE HURRIED toward her workstation in Vandaras cave, Kenna slid her eyes left and right. When she was sure n.o.body was looking at her, she said a silent little prayer to the Great Mother that she would get through this day without incident.

Prayer was forbidden in this place of horror, and she knew that if anyone realized what she was doing, they would report her to their master. Then she might be the next victim of his bloodl.u.s.t.

Great Mother, what had she come to? A slave quaking in her sandals.

She hated herself. Hated her existence. Yet she saw no way to escape.

A few months ago, shead had choices for the future. Marriagea"to the right man. Or not, if that suited her better.

Until shead been carried away to this nightmare place, shead been a free citizen of Breezewood. Her father owned a shop that sold well-made sandals and boots to n.o.bles and common people alike. After finishing her education at the cityas school for adepts, she had worked for two years, using her talent to cure leather for the merchants who had paid for her schooling. With her obligation fulfilled, shead become a tutor in the house of a powerful man named Cardona"one of the leaders of Breezewood.

His children had shown signs of early psychic talent, and he and his wife, Donda, had wanted to give them a head start in the school for adepts.

So they had asked the teachers who would be a good tutor, then hired Kenna. Shead only been in the household a few months, but she had already met a number of highborn men who were attracted to hera"men who might want a pretty young wife with powers, a wife who would improve the chances of advancement for their own children.

She pressed her hand against her mouth, wondering if she was remembering her old life accurately. Or was she just trying to distract herself from the horrors of the present?

Shead been on a visit to her parents when Vandaras warriors had burst through the city gate and swarmed up the cobblestone street. Theyad grabbed Kenna and taken her away with twenty other unfortunates.

Now she was afraid that death at Vandaras hands was the only way she would leave this outpost of Carfolian h.e.l.l. That might be a relief, because life as one of his slaves was no life at all.

Around her, others hurried down the corridors of the huge cave, each of them alone in the crowd.

When theyad arrived, Vandar had tested each of them in a horrible ceremony where he probed their minds as he drank their blood. If they had no psychic powers, their lives would be hard, because they were only good for manual labor. They would likely be slaughtered quickly, or work themselves to death at an early age.

But if they had powers, then the evaluation was trickier. He wanted to use the talents of his slaves, but if he discovered an adept was strong enough to challenge his authority, that person might be killed on the spot.

Kenna had almost met that fate. During the selection ceremony, she had sensed his mental jaws clamping onto her mind, and she had instinctively tried to pull away. But head been stronger than she was. And head held her fast.

Maybe that had saved her life, but now she was a slave in the most basic sense of the word.

At first, alone in her narrow bed at night, shead thought about trying to escape under cover of darkness and flee across the black plains that surrounded the cave. Beyond were the badlands, full of lawless men who belonged to no city.

She longed to risk that route, but she couldnat make herself leave the vicinity of the cave. No one could, and she was sure it was because Vandar had put some silent orders into their heads that kept them chained to this place.

As she pa.s.sed the dormitory where she slept with twenty other women, she repressed a sigh.

She couldnat go there now. Unless she was too sick to work, and that was risky, because a sick slave might easily become a dead slave.

Her job was in the library, a large room by cave standards, with desks and wooden tables and shelves of books lining the walls.

The volumes were on many subjects, and most of them came from the old times. Today books were copied by scribes, but these volumes had been made by another process that she didnat understand.

In the library, she hurried to the wide worktable where a volume lay open. It was about something called chemistry. The words meant very little to her, but she wasnat there to read and understand a complicated subject from the past.

The book had been damaged by dry rot, and the edges of the paper were crumbling. Deftly she used her telekinetic skills to even out the rough places. Then she dipped her horsehair brush into a pot of preserving solution and swished it across the page. It was impossible to give the paper an even coat with the brush alone, but she could smooth it out with her mind, leaving the thinnest layer of transparent film on the page.

After she had smoothed out the coating, she used her telekinetic skills again to dry the paper. When it was no longer sticky, she went on to the next page, repeating the process. As she did the purely physical part of the job, she thought of Bendel, the man who had died so publicly a few days ago.

She had seen him stealing food, and she had thought he was taking a terrible chance for a little bread and fruit.

But she hadnat warned him to stop. Because that could get her into trouble, and shead known he wasnat worth it.

With the brushwork finished, she began the psychic part of her task again, thinning out the preservative. The process was tedious, but she knew that she could be doing far more unpleasant work, like cleaning the toilets or burying bodies.

Instead, she got to sit in a room alone for most of the day, engaged in her special project, a luxury in this communal environment.

She heard a bell chime nine times and knew that she still had three hours to go before she could stop for the noon meal, which she would eat in the communal dining room with the other women. In this place, men and women were separated at meals and at work, to keep them from forming relationships.

Taking a short rest, she stretched her arms and legs, sipped some water from a pottery mug, and went back to her task.

She was about halfway through the chemistry book when a shadow filled the doorway.

Glancing up, she saw a man named Wendon giving her a speculative look as though he were considering whether to send a horse off to auction. He was short, with thinning hair, and it was rumored that he had been with Vandar for years. Whether that was true or not, he was certainly one of the adepts who worked most closely with the master.

When Kenna saw the smirking expression on his face, her hand froze.