Julian May - Sorcerers moon

SORCERER'S MOON

Julian May is the author of TheSaga of the Pliocene Exile (The Many-Coloured Land, The Golden Torc, TheNonborn King and The Adversary), The Galactic Milieu Trilogy, BlackTrillium (with Marion Zimmer Bradley and Andre Norton), Blood Trillium andSky Trillium, and most recently The Rampart Worlds. The authorlives in the state of Washington.

By Julian May

THE SAGA OF THE PLIOCENE EXILE

The Many-Coloured Land

The Golden Torc

The Nonborn King

The Adversary

A Pliocene Companion

INTERVENTION

The Surveillance

The Metaconcert

THE GALACTIC MILIEU TRILOGY

Jack the Bodiless

Diamond Mask

Magnificat

Black Trillium (with M. ZimmerBradley & A. Norton)

Blood Trillium

Sky Trillium

THE RAMPART WORLDS

Perseus Spur

Orion Arm

Sagittarius Whorl

THE BOREAL MOON TALE

Conqueror's Moon

Ironcrown Moon

Sorcerer's Moon

Sorcerer's Moon

The Boreal Moon Tale Book Three

JULIAN MAY

Contents

Harper Voyager Animprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith,London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

This paperback edition 2007 1

First published in Great Britain byVoyager 2006

Copyright 2006 by StarykonProductions, Inc

The Author asserts the moral rightto be identified as the author of this work

Maps by Richard Geiger

A catalogue record for this book isavailable from the British Library

ISBN 978 0 00 712326 1

Typeset in Meridien by PalimpsestBook Production Limited, Grangemouth, Stirlingshire

Printed and bound in Great Britainby Clays Limited, St Ives pic

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may bereproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by anymeans, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, withoutthe prior permission of the publishers.

As our valiant warriors proceed inland in the conquest of High BlenholmeIsland, I command that all inactive moonstone amulets discovered on the deadbodies of our Salka foe be smashed into dust and scattered to the Boreal Winds,for the sorcery they conjure is an abomination and a mortal danger to allthinking creatures - be they human or nonhuman.

-BAZEKOY, Emperor of the World

PROLOGUE

The Royal Intelligencer

With evening, the incessant warmrain that had plagued us for three days stopped, the sky cleared at last, and Icaught a glimpse of the rising moon. Its position confirmed the fear that hadhaunted me since morning. We were traveling in the wrong direction, going northinstead of south. We were lost.

Even worse, I was now positivethat something was stalking us. It was very large, clever enough to stay hiddenin the thick brush along the shore, and it betrayed itself only rarely byunnatural movements of the greenery or a slight sound -

Like that! The faint crack of abroken stick.

I stopped paddling and the skiffdrifted to a halt. I peered into shadowy undergrowth a dozen ells away andcupped a hand about my ear, straining to listen. There was no wind. The watersof the lake were flat calm. Save for the faraway wailing cry of ablack-throated diver bird, the silence was absolute. My normal senses perceivednothing. Once again, I tried without success to summon my talent, but myuncanny abilities were still too weak even to scry through the flimsy barrierof reeds and shrubs into the boreal forest beyond.

Yet instinct assured me that thestalker was there, watching us.

The sky overhead had turned todeepest blue, with a few scattered stars beginning to appear. On my right handthe full Harvest Moon rose, brilliantly white, through the raggedy ranks ofspruce trees that topped the ridge alongside the narrow lake. I looked towardthe opposite shore and beheld a wonderful thing in the sky above it - a greatarc of pearly light spread across the retreating bank of rainclouds in thewest.

I must have exclaimed at the sightof it, waking her. Induna stirred in the bottom of the boat, uncovered herhead, which had been shielded from the rain by blankets and an oilskin cloak,and lifted herself painfully on one elbow.

'Deveron?' Her voice was low andanxious. 'Is something wrong?'

For the moment, I dodged thequestion. 'Look over there. It's a moon bow.'

'How beautiful. I've heard of thembut never seen one before. They're supposed to portend great good luck.'

I thought: We have sore need ofthat, beyond doubt!

Even as we watched, the marvelbegan to fade. It was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. I took up thewater-flask and bent over the woman who should have been my wife sixteen yearsago, who had already given up so much for my sake and who now might be rewardedonly with gruesome death. Induna lay with her head pillowed on a pack. She hadbeen asleep for hours, still recovering from the sacrifice made shortly afterour arrival in this forsaken wilderness three days earlier.

I said,. 'Take some water, love.I'll help you to sit up.'

The boat rocked as we shiftedposition. It was a flat-bottomed skiff of the unique Andradhian style, made oftough sheets of thin bark, pointed at both ends. The Boatwright I'd bought itfrom had intended it for the jungle streams of the distant Southern Continent;but being lightweight and easy to portage, it was also the perfect craft forvoyaging among the bewildering maze of bogs, rivers and chains of lakes thatcomprised the forbidding Green Morass of northern Didion.

Induna drank only a little beforesinking back onto her improvised cushion with a sigh. 'I feel stronger. Thesleep did me good. I think I'll be able to eat something tonight. Will we begoing ashore soon? My poor bladder is nigh bursting.'

I pointed to a small wooded islandthat lay off the bow. 'We'll camp there, rather than on the mainland. I...think something might be following the boat along the shore, keeping out ofsight.'

Her eyes widened. 'Is it ananimal?'

'Perhaps not. It tracks us veryslyly. It's best that we not take chances.'

'So you can't oversee what itmight be?'

I began to paddle again, diggingbriskly. 'My wind-sensibilities are still useless, even though my physicalstrength now seems completely restored, thanks to you.'

'How long has this creature beentrailing us?'

'God only knows. I became aware ofit this morning, shortly after we embarked from the last campsite, but it mighthave been pursuing us for longer, hidden by the mist and rain. It's a sizablething, probably much larger than a human being. I pray it's only a curiousbrown bear or wandering tundra-lion. I can fend a beast off easily with a fewfirebolts from my crossbow.'

She spoke hesitantly. 'Could itpossibly be a Salka? You recall that I told you that the forces of theSovereignty believed that the monsters' main force was massed many leagues tothe north of here, around Beacon Lake. But they might have sent out scouts.'

'I think not. The amphibians moveclumsily on land, as this thing does not. And Salka would be more likely tofollow a small boat by swimming underwater. Our pursuer is something else.'

Indiana and I both suspected whatit might be. But neither of us wanted to name the dire possibility aloud, nordid we voice the uncomfortable thought that we might have been underobservation by the supposedly extinct Morass Worms almost from the first disastrousmoment of our arrival.

Like most citizens of Cathra, I'dknown almost nothing of the giant horrors until I came to live in Tarn.Induna's mother had told legends of them as we shared the folklore of ourdisparate homelands during long winter nights in the Deep Creek Covemanorhouse. No Tarnian had laid eyes on a Morass Worm for at least threehundred years, but their memory lived on through grisly tales relished by thesimpler people of the northlands. The storytellers could not even agree upon thefabled creatures' appearance, describing them variously as huge fanged eels,scaly serpents, slime-covered salamanders, or even colossal centipedes withwrithing multiple limbs. Like the Salka, the Green Men, and the Small Lights,they were said to be prehistoric inhabitants of the island who were driven intothe waste lands by invading humankind. The worms were intelligent, not mereanimals. Supposedly they were able to appear out of nowhere and kill their preyby breathing fire. The hardheaded Didionite foresters who dwelt in the farnorthern parts of High Blenholme mostly scoffed at the old tales and werecertain that the worms no longer existed - if they ever had. But then, humansalmost never ventured into the trackless depths of the Green Morass ...

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