Sage's Moon

By James Matt Cox

The world of Epigaea is old and filled with promise and peril. In their pride and arrogance the magic-wielders of old unleashed a storm so powerful that Epigaea herself rebelled and rose against them. The Great Storm decimated those who would conquer her then set loose creatures of shadow, twisted caricatures of those wanton spell-weavers, to devour any who dared survive.
Now, over two thousand years later, Mankind has again grown but this time in fear and humility. Those few left after Epigaea's rage now know respect for the world they inhabit. In the small village of Brookvale on the edge of lands yet untamed three children grow, through happy times and sad, in their journey to adulthood.
Then... disaster! Monsters of legend ride the night's shadows in to capture and kill all who dare live in the lands they wish to hold. By wit, by will and by sheer luck these children, Thorne, Elaine and Sven, survive that awful night.
But is it luck alone? Now grown and making their way through a huge and heartless world these three discover an ancient evil bent on consuming the souls and magic of Epigaea herself. This unstoppable darkness must be stopped but they have only themselves to do it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Matt Cox
• Release date: Oct 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463739204

James Matt Cox

James Matthew Cox Jr. was born in Texarkana Arkansas and he lives there today. His parents encouraged him to read and to enjoy it at a very early age. His father made certain he gained an appreciation for science fiction. His childhood heroes had names like Asimov, Bradbury and E. E. Smith. After graduating high school he earned a Bachelor's degree in computer science and a Master's degree in mathematics. He worked 25+ years as a math/CSCI instructor and recently added 'Open-Source Java Developer' to his resume. During all those years he continued to enjoy science fiction, both reading and writing, and finally decided to DO something about it.

Book preview

Sage's Moon

by James Matt Cox

The story presented here is fiction.

Any similarity to any person, group or entity living, dead or virtual is purely coincidental.

Version Code: 201011

Copyright (c) 2019 by James M. Cox Jr.

Smashwords Edition

Cover Art by: www.viladesign.net

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Books by James Matt Cox

A Pattern of Details

The Dungeon Crawl Unlimited fantasy RPG system

Open Source Tools for Independent Authors

Vortex Portal

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The Children of Wisdom

The Dawn of Wisdom; Beyond Wisdom; Flashes of Wisdom

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Books in the Stone Blade series:

Stone Blade; Double Bait

The Radical Factor; The Burning Crown

Expedient Measures; Lethal Max

The Border Incident; The Blatant Prey

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The Moons of Epigaea

Sage's Moon; Reaper's Moon; Hallow's Moon; Planter's Moon

This book is dedicated to David, Nate, Gerry, Amy, Samantha, Lexy and Randy.

The first to adventure in the brand new world of Epigaea.

- - - - -

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

-The First Amendment to the

Constitution of the United States of America

Chapter 0. Moonfall

The day the Sages fall anew, the Mother's ire shall come again.

A Compass guiding hand shall hold, Darkness then will be its path.

This tale begins, as do all tales of worth, in a distant time and a distant place. The world of Epigaea dances before a vast, dark firmament speckled with stars like chips of diamond on ebony velvet. Epigaea herself shines blue and green and brown, shrouded at times with cottony, capricious clouds.

The ancient races of Elves and Dwarves dwelt upon Epigaea's skin or beneath it as they sang many songs of her bounty. When the race of Man came to be among them the Elves and Dwarves welcomed their younger brethren and shared generously of Epigaea's abundance.

As their world spun tirelessly in her dance the race of Man grew to be much larger than the Elves or Dwarves. Their lives were short but they lived them fast and full, much to the amusement of their more patient brothers.

Then came the wars. Men fought against men for the sake of pride and the absence of sense. Elves and dwarves avoided these battles, finally retreating to the lands they claimed as their own and protected against the intrusion of Man. They took with them their most powerful knowledge, which they never shared, and with them went whatever restraint they held on the tempestuous race of men.

And man's wars grew.

***

Are you certain of this, your Eminence?

Laritanius, First Hand of the High Priest of the Orders of Light and Shadow and himself a mage of no small degree, spoke carefully to his mentor and master.

Of course I am. We all are. Histiliothenes, the High Priest himself, made an adjustment to his orrery. The intricate rings, circles and bands clicked gently along their tracks. The portents are favorable, the Augers have spoken, the moon waxes and the equinox approaches. Magic swells within the Realms and the Orders and we shall put paid to these filthy Mantic rebels once and for all. They think to hide themselves behind their feeble Elements but their very nature betrays them. He graced his First Hand with a superior look. Their ignorance and their lust for their power will be their undoing. Scribe my words, my friend.

Laritanius nodded humbly and kept his thoughts hidden. Histiliothenes might think the time perfect but he held some reservations. On the morrow all of the Orders would begin summoning forth more magical power than had ever been gathered before. The High Priests of all the individual Orders had gathered here at Crystalanthia for the Great Ritual. Fully seven score of lesser priests stood ready to cast the signal to their fellows.

If the ritual worked it would indeed clear the rebelling Mantics from Epigaea, the Patersphere that held her and all the Realms they touched. If not? Laritanius tried hard not to think on that. Histiliothenes held the position of High Priest for a reason and that reason was his knowledge of the Realms of Light and Shadow and his skill at using the power they held.

Despite the Mantics' vile acts Laritanius felt a twinge of pity at what would come. They might be misguided and wrong but certainly not all of them were truly evil. Surely they were not all beyond redemption.

The opening of the chamber door jolted him out of his reverie. Histiliothenes looked up in anger only to cloak it when he saw his visitor.

I bring greetings from the Great Emperor Nattas Regillius Artorios, Speaker of Suns and Stars and Father-Protector of Epigaea. He hopes his High Priest is well. Vipsanithicus, Lesser Voice of the Emperor, strode into the room as though he owned it. He made no bow to the stone figures carved into the doors as he pushed them closed behind him.

Greetings, Vipsanithicus. Histiliothenes spoke a mild insult by omitting any honorifics but not one worthy of calling. We are indeed well. I hope His Majesty is in good health and spirit.

Laritanius heard rumors that the Lesser Voice studied under Mantic tutors during his youth. He certainly had great skill at manipulating the forces of magic yet none of the Orders had any record of training him.

He is, said Vipsanithicus, yet he is not. His lands are filled with blight and battle. War drains the lives of his subjects and the gold in his coffers. The magic of the land runs red like blood and he has grown tired of it. He bade me tell you this bickering with your brethren must cease.

They are not our brothers, spat Histiliothenes with fury. Froth flecked his lips. Those filthy outcasts are the ones to blame. They refused to see reason. They still refuse to see reason. You would be easier explaining the color of His Majesty's robes to one born blind than sense to a Mantic.

So you have said, said Vipsanithicus coolly. Was it not by those same words that His Highest Majesty cast out the Mantics these many years past? He wonders that he acted in haste. Perhaps his decree was too narrow. Have your Vatic Orders yet filled the needs that outcasting created?

Histiliothenes clamped his jaw tight and his face turned dark red.

Peace, Histiliothenes. These are not my words but the Emperor's. He now questions the wisdom of his actions. When he spoke them you promised him peace within the year. Two at the most, you said. Now the peasant's children have grown gray beards and still there is war. It is time and past time for it to end.

And so it shall. Histiliothenes finally controlled himself. The portents are perfect and the Orders gathered. The equinox approaches. We will exterminate the filthy Mantics and their rebellion by its passing.

So I have heard, said Vipsanithicus. See that you hold your words true. His Highest Majesty Nattas Regillius decrees that this foolishness will end before the winter solstice passes. By one path or another.

Without awaiting a response Vipsanithicus turned and walked stately out of the room.

***

Vipsanithicus walked away from the high temple with all the haste his dignity permitted. Once called the most beautiful city on Epigaea, before the Vatic Orders chose it for their home, Crystalanthia held many lush parks full of singing fountains and wind gardens. Children ran and capered under their mothers' watchful eyes but not enough of either filled the parks. Even here the wars took their toll.

After a long, thought-filled walk Vipsanithicus came to a small park on the edge of the town. Its fountains were less ostentatious and its plants less exotic yet it had a greater feeling of nature about it. He sat on a bench behind some wild bushes and watched a small fountain spray.

Before long a figure clad in a long, dark green hooded cloak sat beside him. The new arrival seemed thin for his height but moved with grace and strength. He held a round of stale bread from which he broke and scattered crumbs. Squirrels, birds and even a pair of rabbits partook eagerly of his bounty, more nervous at Vipsanithicus than the stranger.

Well?

It is as we feared. Vipsanithicus spoke simply now with the comfort and familiarity of an oldest friend. He walks the knife's edge between madness and sanity. I fear his balance may easily fail.

I have felt the unseen waters here. They are greatly perturbed. I am surprised you cannot sense it as well. Even here it sickens me.

Within the temple it is worse. It is like a cesspit on a hot day. Vipsanithicus smiled wanly. What I feel and what my face shows, old friend, are rarely the same.

Such is always the way with your kind, young friend. Can this foul flood be tempered here?

Vipsanithicus sighed. I have no answer to that. Perhaps it can. I am torn between telling my Emperor and acting on his behalf to stop it. Either path is fateful and neither is sure.

The stranger chuckled. That is the way of Mother Epigaea and has been since before my grandsire was born. Think on your course. I wish to travel and bespeak my brethren. They may have counsel for you. I should be back ere nightfall or just afterward. Walk in peace, young friend.

And you in safety, old friend.

Chapter 1. Moonrise.

Thorne? Thorne Greenbrook. Where are you? Mother wants you home now. Do you hear me?

Thorne hunkered down lower beneath the leaves of the thick bush in front of him and held his finger to his lips. Elaine Mudrows, his best friend in the entire world, nodded and muffled a giggle. His oldest sister Teresa continued crashing through the brush like a mad bull. He tried hard not to laugh.

Thorne. I know you can hear me. The ash pits need cleaning and it's your turn to do it.

Having just passed his eleventh naming-day last month Thorne felt no compulsion to obey his sister. Elaine and about a dozen children also had their eleventh. By long-standing tradition everyone celebrated their naming-day on the Festival of Coins at the end of Aurora. The eleventh was special, though. Eleven naming-days meant one full decade and one full year. The villagers of Brookvale considered that lucky as did those of Wharton and even Petram beyond it. What Thorne considered lucky was the silver tuppen his father gifted him.

Elaine received her coin from Alicia Misty-Eyes. Just as well, thought Thorne. Her parents had their hands full with their other eight children. Elaine fell in the middle with four older siblings and four younger. The Mudrows struggled to farm their land. Her father Oliver swore he would, by the Light, grow enough coin to buy better but it never happened. They lived at the very end of the road out of town and didn't come in often.

On Elaine's seventh naming-day Alicia declared that she had the gift of magic and took her as an apprentice. Her other 'prentices were far older and more advanced so Elaine had few true friends in the tower. Then she and Thorne found each other. Alicia required Elaine to spend long hours studying and Thorne's parents wanted him to learn his letters so the two of them became best friends.

I think she's gone, whispered Elaine.

Thorne cocked his head. Teresa's crashing sounded quite faint now.

She is. He stood and stretched his legs. We better stay away a while. She's going to be in a hot slaver for hours now.

Elaine giggled. Fine. Let's go to the fountain falls.

Braeden's ballocks. Why the swollop do you want to go there?

Scrape your tongue! I happen to like it there. Besides, tonight is the fourth night of the Sage's moon and I want to watch it rise. The fourth is special, you know. The exact middle. There are three nights before and three after. It's like... It's like the balance. The Sage's Moon represents the Great Storm. When magic went wild and ravaged all the lands. The elves and dwarves were safe in their forests and caves but humans had to survive on their own.

Hah. Goblin tales and moonbeams, he said. Those are just old stories mothers use to scare their children.

Sage Bryon says they're real. He's read all of Mistress Alicia's books. Even the ones she can't. Some of them more than once.

That's where he gets his stories. I'm telling you, Elaine, it's nothing but bog fumes he makes up when he takes too much wine.

She pinched his arm hard.

Ouch.

That's for insulting Sage Bryon. She walked deeper into the thicket. I'm going to the fountain falls whether you want to or not.

You're daft. Elf-touched.

A moment after she vanished he hurried to catch her.

What's wrong? she asked. Are you scared?

No. You don't need to be out there all by yourself. That's all.

Oh. Do I need protecting from all those goblins and monsters you don't believe in? Perhaps the Mad Weaver of Velpollux?

No. There's wolves and bears and tancats out there. Those aren't myths at all.

***

Thorne and Elaine trudged homeward. The moon shone in the sky, illuminating their path almost as brightly as daylight. While Thorne washed his hands in the waterfall Elaine gathered redberries, wild pears and tart apples. Then she laughed when, after eating their fill, Thorne had to wash his hands and face again. She did too but he fussed about it.

Though he'd never admit it Thorne enjoyed watching the moon rise. Although it waned from its full glory it came up in the perfect position on the horizon. The Moonsea was calm and only one small swirl-storm circled lazily around the four-fingered Claw. It lit up the waterfall and made the pool beneath glow silver.

The mist and spray made sparkles and Elaine claimed that water-sprites dancing for joy created it. Even better, the moon lined up perfectly above the falls and between the two distant mountains the villagers called Braeden's Hands. Thorne wished he could capture the exact instant on canvas and hang it on his wall.

We made it, said Elaine. No bears, tancats or goblins.

Thorne forbore a response. The Sly Tiger, his parents' inn and his home, loomed before him. His great-granther built the place when he settled in the then-smaller village. After a long life of adventure and luck inns, pubs and taverns were the only truly universal constants, he oft said. That and good ale although ale wasn't always good.

The building itself rested against a huge upthrust rock. Cletus Greenbrook claimed it would keep his inn cool in the summer and solid during any storm. The inn itself he named after an animal he claimed he saw in the jungles of Fyrn. According to Thorne's granther the villagers thought him daft for it but they drank plenty of ale and the infrequent merchants appreciated the rooms.

Above the door hung a sign showing a striped tancat hiding behind a scrubby bush. Its face had an expression full of mischief and Thorne felt like the glass beads of its eyes stared only at him now. Were the truth known he'd rather face a bear, goblin or even a real tiger than his mother's wrath right now.

There you are. As usual Teresa moved deftly through the crowd with a tray full of food and drink. Mother, he's back now.

Thorne cringed as his sister's voice pierced the noise of the crowd. All eyes focused on him and Elaine as Mary Greenbrook stormed out of the kitchen.

High time and past, she said, brandishing a long wooden spoon.

Thorne considered bolting for the door. His mother hit hard and she swore the spoon would break before his backside did.

We were worried to death, she said. You know better than wandering the woods at night. Why didn't you come when your sister called?

W-we were at the fountain falls, he stammered, trying his best to sound innocent. Elaine wanted to go. We didn't realize how late it was 'till it got full dark.

Mary turned to Elaine.

Well? Is he telling the truth?

I... Elaine swallowed hard. Yes, Mrs. Mary. I wanted to watch the moon rise. It's the fourth night of Sage's and I wanted to see it clear. I'm sorry.

Mary scowled at them both. I should spoon the two of you but I won't. Instead you'll spend tomorrow cleaning the ash pits.

But Mother, said Thorne, tomorrow is Reverence. We're not supposed to work on Reverence. It's supposed to be a day of rest and contemplation and...

Work, interrupted Mary, and contemplation of what happens when you don't use your good sense. Or listen to your sister when she calls you. Now go wash yourselves. I'll have food for you when you're good and clean.

B-but I have to return to the tower, said Elaine.

Not tonight, dear. Alicia sent word. She's doing her augury tomorrow and since you weren't there when she closed the circle you cannot enter now.

Alicia claimed her tower rested above some ancient magic. The 'prentices all claimed it was naught but bog fumes but never where she might overhear. She certainly conducted her rituals as though it did and no one, not even Sage Bryon, dared gainsay her.

Swollop. I forgot.

Mary's spoon popped loudly as it smacked Elaine's bottom. Elaine jumped and yelped.

Young ladies should not swear, scolded Mary. Scrape your tongue or I'll wash off the foulness myself.

As soon as Thorne and Elaine sat Teresa brought them food. Sven Smithson, the blacksmith's son, walked up and sat with them. Thorne scanned the room for Sven's father.

He's not here, said Sven. He and most of the menfolk left around mid-afternoon. No one's heard from the northern farms or hunters there for a long time.

That's not unusual, said Elaine, remembering the endless effort farming and livestock required.

Yes it is. At least one of them should have made the trip in. Even Geezer Woodruff hasn't shown his face and you know he's out of wine by now. His mouth will be dry as the deserts of Goor with a thirst the size of Vell.

Maybe his bees are as sotted as he is, said Thorne. Maybe they're making mead instead of honey.

Elaine laughed but Sven made a sour face.

Mead would kill them, he said. Just like winter wine or grain liquor. I guess you're too young to know that.

Thorne flew him an emperor's finger. Know this.

Sven smiled and said nothing. He was born two days before the Festival of Coins so he had one more naming day than Thorne or Elaine. He never tired of mentioning that even though they were born well less than a year apart.

He's too old, said Elaine. He might fall off and break his leg.

Sven choked on his cider, caught his breath and the three of them burst out laughing.

Can I stay here tonight? he asked after they finished their food. Da won't be home for a few days.

Of course, said Thorne. You can sleep with me, as usual. Why do you even ask?

Because he has manners, said Mary as she set one of her famous pear tarts before them. Something you should learn, Thorne. Elaine, you'll sleep with young Anna.

***

Thorne slept restlessly until he jerked awake. Beside him Sven snored like a great-saw cutting an old tree but he always did. Moonlight leaked in around the drapes but that wasn't it either. The border told him it was late and that he should still be asleep but sleep fled him. Something felt wrong.

He heard a small, faint creaking against the wall. Beyond it was the stairway that led to the second floor extension where his parents and younger siblings slept. Anna, he thought, walking in her sleep again. Once she made it all the way to the stables before she woke. That upset not only his mother and father but also the horses and the old groom Ted.

Thorne pulled on his boots, opened his door silently and padded to the one at the bottom of the stairs. His mother always said waking a walking sleeper would open a soul to the Realms of Darkness. He didn't believe that but he did know waking her before she roused herself scared her witless. Then he noticed a bit of light flickering under the door. That meant a candle which meant it wasn't Anna. The door opened with a whisper and Elaine walked through.

What is it? he asked.

Elaine jumped, slapped her palm over her mouth and yelped. The candle shook even after she caught her breath.

You scared the Light out of me, Thorne, she whispered. What are you doing up?

Couldn't sleep. You?

Yeah. I mean no. I don't know. Something just doesn't feel right. It's like... You know how it feels before a storm breaks? Even if there aren't any clouds in the sky. You can feel it.

I know. That's... Shh.

Elaine fell silent and then everything was silent, even Sven's snoring. Thorne eased the door open.

Sven?

Yah.

In the candlelight they saw him sitting on the side of the bed pulling on his boots.

You can't sleep either?

I can sleep just fine. I was having some really bad dreams and they woke me up. I started to roll over and go back to sleep when I noticed you weren't there. I thought you were getting ready to prank me.

Scrape the thought, said Thorne. Despite my youth I am above such childish things.

Sven opened his mouth to reply and the world shattered.

***

Screams. Screams and shrieks.

The floor bucked under Thorne as he tried to gather his senses.

No. The floor was steady but he was shaking. The screams came from within his head.

... hear me, Thorne?

He shook his head, regretted it and the world swam into focus on Elaine. Something was wrong for her to be standing at such an odd angle. Then realization dawned.

The wall behind her had buckled and splintered. Now he heard screams but muffled and distant. Then he focused on the collapsed stairway behind Elaine.

Mother. Father.

Strong arms holding him back.

Wait, Thorne. Wait. The stairway's broken.

But... but...

I said wait, said Sven. I'll go with you. Don't run ahead else you'll crack your skull.

Part of the heavy doorway wedged itself across the threshold. Thorne thought only of his parents and sisters but Sven kept his sense. He pushed the door several times testing it then grabbed it and heaved. His muscles bulged and the door finally snapped in half. Rubble, stones and dust dropped but nothing worse.

Thorne tried to climb the stairs but none were there. He hopped from one half-step to another until he found