Nomad Moon (Bound Worlds Book 1), page 1
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Calendars
Pantheons
Mythologies of the Steppe
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Forged in Flame
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
The Slant of Time
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Copyright © 2023 A.C. Somerville
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the express permission of the author.
ISBN-13: 9798862302868
Cover Illustration by Betty Elgyn: artstation.com/ladyowl - instagram.com/betty_elgyn
For Julia:
my love, my light.
Calendars
Jerrid
The Pause - Days 1 through 70
The Rise - Days 71 through 140
The Crest - Days 141 through 210
The Turn - Days 211 through 280
The Ebb - Days 281 through 351
Date Format - The Turn 53, 1212
Ishu
Jracul - Days 1 through 35
Pilt - Days 36 through 70
Yyinte - Days 71 through 105
Lincul - Days 106 through 140
Kulul - Days 141 through 175
Pirin - Days 176 through 210
Vacul - Days 211 through 245
Hirr - Days 246 through 280
Hovul - Days 281 through 315
Garul - Days 316 through 351
Date Format - 17th of Hirr, 1754
Vaoam Pantheon
Vao - Protector of Justice and Law (f)
Kuul - Protector of War, Mortality and Sacrifice (m)
Hove - Protector of Ingenuity, Industry and Technology (f)
Garanam - Protector of Love, Fertility and Marriage (f)
Linir - Protector of Wealth, Harvests and Nature (f)
Jrae - Protector of Water and Weather (m)
Common Jerridian Seraphs
The Smith
The Mother
The Washer
The Carpenter
The Rogue
The Mason
The Whistler
The Breaker
The Shade
The Magnate
The Healer
MYTHOLOGIES OF THE STEPPE
ONE
IN MY YOUTH, looking to the sky would fill me with a towering sense of regret.
Then, I would count the field of stars illuminating the belt of Ishu, and remember that we were only tiny, after all. And all the things I had done across the arc of my short life would distort and recede one by one until all was dust. I felt fiercely inconsequential. Suspended on a moonbeam of quiet dread.
It was the Turn 52, 1212 and the azure of Ishu’s atmosphere shimmered gently amidst black space. Its verdant continents greeted me as an old acquaintance. The planetary ring, impossibly grandiose yet perilously delicate, shrouded its equator. I thought it cruel, to be faced nightly with such astonishing beauty only for it to be kept just out of reach. For so few of us would go there - up into the nameless sky - and even fewer would ever return. It was the harsh reality of my life then, coveting the impossible. But, though my story had humble beginnings, it soon became apparent that impossible is just an idea, and reality, just a feeling.
From the plateau my people claimed as territory, I was also afforded a grand view of my own planet’s surface.
To the north of my home, a thick and verdant forest stretched to the horizon as the mountain pass gave way to gentle hills. To the south, the soaring, white-capped peaks forged on forever, zigzagging across a dark sky. They would - I knew - after many miles, dwindle and level out into the vast expanse of the Waste: the treacherous, thousand-mile desert at the center of the world. But, it never paid to think about such things. The nights were still and silent those days and we were safe under the mountain.
As I walked the ridgeline beneath Hollow Mountain heaving a shaggy-coated, split-horned mammal on my back, I felt suddenly and inexplicably gracious about things. I turned to my brother, who trudged alongside clutching a short bow, and cut through the silence.
“Good kill tonight, Beam,” I said. “A Yaxbeast like this will keep Ma happy. Probably’ll feed us for a week.”
“Not if Aunt Rime has anything to say about it we won’t.” My brother took a short sip from his water skin before slotting it back into his leather satchel. “The old lady’s getting fat, have you noticed?” He stopped then, turning to face me as I trekked onward. “Let me carry it a while. You’re flagging a bit.”
“It’s fine. We’re almost there anyway.” I stepped carefully over a shallow crack bisecting the rockface. “You killed it.”
“And you tracked it. Give it here.” He hopped after me and then forcibly held out the bow for me to carry. I sighed before acquiescing, maneuvering the carcass into his arms. Quietly relieved, I stretched out my back and it gave a dull crack from under my fur-lined coat.
The ridge continued for half a mile or so more before giving way to the sharp-sided valley below Hollow Mountain. As we rounded the corner, there, all at once, was civilization. Along several tiers going up the valley side, was Kiloon. A legion of glittering orange flames punctuated the shadows of its buildings peering out over a shallow wall.
The night was bright, for Ishu was full. Its sapphire aura allowed us to find our footing over the uneven, jagged ground. We made greater haste then, for our expedition had taken us out further than we had anticipated, and our mother would surely be waiting on us.
“Remember,” Beam said, “if she asks, we felled the beast at the basin past Hollow. Don’t want her getting worried.”
“Nearby basin,” I confirmed.
Following a walk along the river which meandered through the valley’s center beneath the twenty-foot-tall Shroudcap fungi, we swung around a wide crag and set eyes on the East Gate. On approach, my brother gave it a brief, hard rap before the peep slot slid open. I hung the short bow on my shoulder and Beam gripped the carcass over his back.
“Beam. Brume. Evening,” the gruff voice said. A misty, periwinkle eye peeked through the narrow gap in the gate.
“Root. How are you?” Beam asked with phony politeness at a peculiar pitch.
“I’m well,” he matched my brother’s tone, before furrowing his brow. “You’re out past curfew. Again.”
“We-” I started.
“...Ran into some trouble with this thing.” Beam shrugged his shoulders with the furry corpse draped across. “Come on, Root. Let us through. I’ll…” he pondered, “I’ll put in a good word for you with Aurora?”
His knifelike pupil ricocheted. “I recall you saying that last time, Beam.”
“Oh,” Beam smirked. “Right.”
The eye narrowed further. “Might be wise to make good on that promise. Or the next time you’re late back…Maybe I won’t be so gracious. We clear?”
“Crystal.” Beam stood at attention. If he’d had his hands free he probably would have saluted.
I heard the broad, wooden door come unbarred from behind and then jumped back out of the way as it swung open with speed.
“Quickly, then. Come on,” Root’s shadow grunted. We scattered past him and he closed the gate behind before frantically securing it. “You owe me. Alright?”
Thanking him, we did a quick march up the quiet, firelit street from the East Gate into town without looking back. The air was thick with woodsmoke; the days grew brisker and shorter. Modest stone buildings, all of them buttressed with sturdy dark-wood frames, formed crowded rows running tangentially to the main thoroughfare. We soon passed by the market square, nestled in the shadow of the grand boarding house. There, illuminated smoke billowed out of two wide openings on opposite ends of a prismatic roof. The tallest building in the lowest tier of the city, the fumes from the boarding house caught the mountain wind and barraged the houses behind on the Second Tier.
We left the market behind, passing the odd idling townsperson, and then ascended the wide-set stone steps that cut into the Second Tier. At the top, we turned off the main street down a short row of narrow houses. At the end of this assortment of humble homes was our own. Tangerine-colored light leaked out through its two oblong-shaped, front-facing windows. The thatched roof extended too far out over the stone walls and a single chimney puffing out silver smoke protruded from the top. Upon arrival, Beam removed the carcass from his back and dumped it onto the stoop, exhaling.
“Damned beast better taste like Flaror after that.” He breathed
Hastily, our mother ushered us in. Beam heaved the beast down to the cold storage cellar, while I took a hard and grateful sit by the fire-pit that occupied most of the floor by the left wall. I removed my felt, leather boots and left them at the foot of my chair, before unclasping my belt and dagger sheath. With surprising speed, my mother handed me a bowl of viscous, brown stew and sat across from me on her favored wicker chair.
“You have to be more careful Brume,” she began the inevitable lecture. “Two days after a Photaur sighting and you two are back an hour past sundown.”
“We had the beast cornered, Mother. We couldn’t give up the chase when we were that close.” I took a strong spoonful of the warming mixture.
“And what would it matter if you encountered one of them?” Her fulgent lavender eyes shuddered against the orange firelight.
“They never hunt this far north. Ridge said the stories are a load of Gaotaur dung,” I responded. “We take refuge at high altitudes for that very reason.” I gulped down another helping.
Her pursed lips signaled her indignation. “This is my house, and while you’re living in it you’ll do as I say, Brume. Next time you go to hunt, you’ll leave right at dawn, and you’ll come back well before dark. Is that understood?”
“Fine. Yeah,” I said. Then, I recoiled as my mother extended towards me to grip my wrist as I reached back into my bowl. “Hey!” I snapped.
“Is that understood?” She reaffirmed with strange intensity.
“Yes. Yes! Understood.”
“Good.” She let my arm go and then shifted back to reclaim her seat.
“I’m going to help myself. If that’s alright?” Beam’s voice inquired from behind me as he entered the living chamber. In his arms was a white-furred, flat-nosed mammal with stubby ears and bright, brazen eyes that glowed a reddish hue. Li Li the Shruuk gave a peaceful, methodical purr as Beam nuzzled the top of her tiny head.
“Don’t you even start,” my mother pointed sternly. “Next time you bring him back before dark. Or you’ll be staying with your aunt indefinitely.”
“Mother, I…”
“No excuses!”
After soaking the bowls and clearing out the stew-pot I crept into the room Beam and I shared. My brother lay face-up on his undersized bed on the left away from the window. His sandy hair and dark face disguised his expression, but his measured breathing indicated his unconsciousness. I quietly undressed and then lay down on my mattress at the other end of the room. My head cut through a line of azure twilight as I rested it against my pillow. The potent glare of Ishu attacked the side of my home. Its authoritative aura forced me to twist away from the window, where I lay for some length of time, before tilting back the other way.
I stared across at it. Beam’s slow and methodical breath was the only sound then. I wondered, not for the first time, about the Ishuns…across the empty gulf of space. Were there young boys and girls up there staring across at Jerrid as I was Ishu? Did those ocean-faring people dream of the vast sands at the heart of my world? Did they pity my people, confined to the mountains and other remote corners for safety from giant predators who prowled the forests and deserts?
A breath. Sleep never came easily to me on nights like these when the Nomad Moon was waxing bright. Again, I turned away from the twilight and shut my eyes fast. It took a while, but after a long day, I was able to push back my anxieties.
Slowly and then all at once I fell into a dreamless void.
TWO
WHEN I WOKE up, Beam was already gone.
A cool draft drifted in from under the panel door to our room, making it difficult for me to muster the will to leave my bed. Milky sunlight poured in through the window and was warm on my face. I had slept deeply and long.
Hearing repetitive movement outside my chamber, I eventually forced myself to my feet and walked barefoot out of my room into the main living area. The once roaring flame of the fireplace had diminished to ash and soot. The bright daylight assaulted the room from all sides through the windows and from the ajar front door.
Suddenly, my mother walked past with purpose from the pantry space on my left.
“Morning, Bru,” she hurried.
“Good-” I started, before realizing she was already out the front door. I frowned, rubbing my eyes and following her.
Stepping out beyond the entryway, I shivered as a gale rushed past and caused the door to bang against the mantelpiece below the front window. The view over the valley was tremendous, for our house was the last in the row and was nestled right at the cliff edge. Hollow Mountain cast an immense shadow from across the way toward town, a pale sun cut in twain behind its silhouette. The ridgeline Beam and I had traversed the night before twisted out of sight where Kil Valley sharply subducted into a forested brook. Scatterings of bronze and blue Shroudcaps - fungi the size of trees - decorated the center of the basin on the banks of the winding stream.
I turned to my right to see my mother being handed a wooden crate by a massive, dark-haired man, where the cobbled road met the edge of our property. I crossed over to her to assist and she offloaded the goods.
“And that makes us square, I think.” She handed the man a handful of silver pieces, and he bowed his head and turned to walk away without a word.
“Stars. What did you order, Ma? A caseload of Qiun shoes?” I heaved the crate through the entryway and dumped it onto the stone floor of the living area.
My mother followed me to stand on the other side of the large box. “Not exactly,” she said. “Help me get it open.”
I bent down and set about untying the rope fastened to the lid. When it wouldn’t budge I stood up and marched into my room to take my knife from my bedside. Returning, I scratched and frayed the rope, and after a few moments’ exertion, it split in two and fell to the floor. “Alright,” I said to myself, heaving off the lid with my mother’s assistance.
I exhaled as we set the lid down, revealing the box’s contents. Inside, taking up the entire length of the crate, was a grand, ornate leather saddle. Its great, crescent-shaped seat was adorned with fine orange and yellow stitching and steel framing, as well as two thick, silvered stirrups that were strung out to the side.
“Stars…” I breathed. “Beam’ll be pleased.”
“I should hope so. It didn’t come cheap.” My mother smiled proudly. Her dark, wavy hair and flaxen skin - both the same shades as mine - were maintained in such a way that she looked younger than she was. Her light complexion mirrored my own. Those lavender eyes - bright and buoyant - however, were most definitely passed on to Beam.
Despite being husbandless for fifteen years, my mother had done well for herself. Her work as a nurse at the infirmary had allowed her to maintain this small house, raise and feed two children, and afforded her the means to purchase small luxuries such as this present to Beam. Knowing the trials and traumas of her early life, I never dared complain.
Beam was turning seventeen soon. Coming of age. The Khan’s recruiters, who had ridden into town a few months prior, had told us that they would return for him when he was old enough. His birthday approached, and it was expected that he would put himself to greater purposes - like the defense of the realm - when the time came. The saddle my mother had acquired - presumably from Tallow, the old stablemaster, or one of his apprentices - would carry Beam off on this journey.
“It’s perfect, Ma. That means I can have his old one then,” I said, spinning my blade idly between my finger and thumb.
“If you start making it home before curfew, then maybe.”
“Right.”
After dressing and rushing down some breakfast, I went out into town. I was expected after midday at the bowyer's, where I held part-time employment. Tack, the town fletcher, paid me four pieces a day in exchange for helping him at his storehouse and shop. It was simple enough work, and close to my interests, and Tack was alright really, if a bit of a grump sometimes.
The shop was across on the other end of town by the South Gate - about a fifteen-minute walk - so I made haste. The odd townsperson nodded at me as I passed but I paid little mind. I was in my head, as I so often was. Then, after descending the stairs onto the main thoroughfare I crossed past the market, which was expectedly bustling.
