Charles L.M. Lartigue - The Theft of the Ayn Noor

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright 2020 by Charles L.M. Lartigue
All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by One & Twenty Books, Midcoast Maine
theftoftheaynnoor.com

Edited and designed by Girl Friday Productions
www.girlfridayproductions.com

Cover, interior, and map design: Paul Barrett
Cover illustration: Chris Beatrice
Logo design: Dave Horowitz
Project management: Sara Spees Addicott
Editorial: Tiffany Taing, Leah Tracosas-Jenness

ISBN (paperback): 978-1-7352687-0-5
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-7352687-1-2

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020914949

This book is dedicated to the beautiful and courageous people of Haiti and Tibet.

Even a tiny pebble casts a long shadow.

Pagani proverb

Marius found himself not so much listening to what Lieutenant Peter Griswald was shouting about but rather observing the deep furrows set between his brows and his dark, strained eyes. What... if... the... rope... slips! yelled Peter, attempting to be heard over the falls. Marius doubted the knots were faulty, but to appease him, he pulled on the rope tied about his boots. Theyre fine! he shouted back. In truth, the rope was too tight. Peter should have had more concern for the circulation to his feet. But there was no time to set it right; a fattened August moon was about to riseits light was all they were waiting for.

Earlier that day, in the cover of the forest, they had cut and delimbed trees, designing a structure that could not only span the river but hold a log across the front of the waterfall, which Marius would use to descend to the pool below. Fortunately, the roar of the water cloaked the sound of their axes and the whinnying of their horses, keeping their presence hidden, for they were deep in enemy territory. Coaxing fresh-cut trees over boulders and stumps in the dark had been its own battleand nearly their demise. Much of their clothing was torn, the blisters on their hands had burst, and their shins were bloodied and bruised by the time they had the timber gathered at the rivers edge.

The apparatus itself was simple enough. The two heaviest logs were set parallel to the river on either bank and secured to rocks and trees with rope. Between them, smaller logs were strapped across the river, making a platform upon which Corporal Caleb Sturgis could sit. With a stack of rope coiled at his feet, Sturgis would lower Marius to the pool in search of Colettes mystical diamond.

In the summer, a chill circulated in the high mountains after sunset, but they did not dare make a fire. Gathered on the bank, waiting for the moon, the three of them ate, chewing dried venison and cracking flatbread between their teeth, too tired to talk. When a faint glow of silver began to dust the horizon, Sturgis took his post on the wooden platform, while Marius and Peter departed for the log positioned out over the falls.

After tying Marius feettoo tightPeter walked the extra cordage back to Sturgis, taking all slack out of the line. Returning to Marius side, Peter stood, head downcast. By now Marius knew the habits of Peters mind. A question would be forthcoming. Peter looked up, his eyes ablaze. What if... you... dont come... back? he bellowed. But Marius had already told himand Sturgisin no uncertain terms, if something went wrong to cut the rope. They were to unburden the horses, abandon all equipment, and ride like the wind toward the Sombol River. Once across, they should either go upriver to the garrison town of Patswil or ride southeast over the plateau to the city of Okomorling, the seat of the Ilyrian Empire in the north. Of one thing Marius was certain: shouting back and forth was futile. With a vigorous jut of his chin, Marius motioned in the direction of Peters post. Peter started to turn but then stopped. Marius quickly lowered his gaze and fiddled with his boots. Good luck, Marius! hollered Peter. Marius kept his head down. When he did chance a peek, he was relieved to see Peter walking toward his post.

Sitting with his feet tied and his back to the precipice, Marius struck the log with his palm. There was not a hint of vibration. Marius pushed down until his arms straightened. He pressed the weight of his body through his hands and lifted his butt and bound legs into the air. He then began to shimmy sideways along the trunk like a crab. Going a few inches at a time, he passed over the edge of the cliff. The brisk thump of his heart made his chest feel hollow. He wasnt so much afraid of heights, but the thundering cataract and the dark, half-veiled pool two hundred feet below made him uneasy.

Through the darkness, he could just make out a shadowed silhouette, the colossal outline of Caleb Sturgis, his feet braced against the timber frame. He was a bearlike man with rounded shoulders. Marius felt confident that Sturgis would be able to lower him and, with help from Lieutenant Griswald, pull him back up. As he neared the middle, the trunk began to bounce slightly. He kept his vision firmly on the lip of the river and lowered himself to sitting. He was less than six feet from the rushing water. It coursed toward him as smooth as porcelain; the only imperfection was where the rope dipped slightly into the river. Just then a gust of river wind burst upon him, filling his face and hair.

Over his shoulder, the rising moon was just visible. Marius peered into the semidarkness to see if he could locate Peterhe could not. Peters post was farther along the cliff, where he could observe both the pool and Sturgis. He was to signal when to stop lowering Marius and when to pull him back up.

When Marius found himself staring at the gibbous moon floating in the inky complexion of the evening sky, he waved at Sturgis, who gestured back. It was time. Marius dropped backward off the log.

Upside-down, he began to spin. One moment Marius could see a solid wall of water rushing past him... and the next an open bowl, formed by the curve of the surrounding cliffs. His shirt hung slightly over his chin, but he could still make out the sky beyond his feet, where a few glimmering stars could be seen. It was a perfect, cloudless night! For all he knew Colette had planned this too. His sisters insight, as with most things, was uncanny. Perhaps she had divined it from her ancient map, the culprit that had set this lunacy in motion.

Marius remembered the day well: the sunlight drizzled upon the parquet floor of the palace, the footmen with their long blue coats and tall white stockings standing on either side of the gilded doors, and the click-clack of officers boots, muted only by the cloth-covered walls with their floral patterns. Marius hadnt gone but ten steps past the footmen when Colette seized his arm and pulled him to one side. Her hands were trembling. I found it! she gasped. From behind the tousled strands of raven hair shone her piercing blue eyes. Colette looked wild, as if she hadnt slept in days. If he hadnt known his sister, he might have thought she was mad.