The Blue Moon - Prologue. Prologue

"Let us be called the Blue Moon.

Because blue is the colour of coolness and balance. Because the moon is eternal and enduring. And so are we.

Red is its flip side: a blazing flame, dangerous and uncontrollable.

We will remember the red sky and be ready when the time comes."

- A fragment from centuries ago, Andreuz Sandkan's home archive

* * *

Curtus
Vilmur, Andiol Empire, in 1577 New Era

There were four people in the room whom Curtus Jerovann had never met before. The four were shivering with cold and had gratefully wrapped themselves in the blankets offered to them. It was a cold, dark winter evening, and the journey to the small town of Vilmur in central Andiol must have been arduous. Curtus knew that the party had ridden all day from their previous stop. The men had travelled even longer than the blonde woman who stood beside the other man, looking tense.

Curtus understood her. The woman had been abruptly taken out of her ordinary life into a play whose script she had not read beforehand. In any case, Curtus hoped she would succeed in her role. The safety of the rest of the group depended on it. Fortunately, the woman was said to be brave and could act naturally in what she was forced to do.

There was more cause for concern with the older of the two men. He sat slumped on the sofa, blanket half over his shoulders, staring paralyzed at the floor. Curtus knew who he had once been and wondered if he would ever recover from his terrible loss.

The younger man was in his early thirties at most, and also looked grim and burdened. No wonder, for he too had suffered a severe blow. Nevertheless, there was a determination in his expression that certainly said something about his character. The man was carrying something wrapped in a blanket - his own son.

The child was about a year old; Curtus was not quite sure, as he did not know much about children. He was over fifty himself, but had never started a family. His only family for most of his adult life had been the Blue Moon and especially Zaltarim Fizol.

* * *

Before meeting Zal, young Curtus had been one of the worst brawlers in the alleys of Dimalos. A small, nimble-fingered orphan, who had grown into a mischievous and fearless young scoundrel, committing the most flagrant crimes at the behest of his bandit chief.

Nothing had stopped Curtus. He had shamelessly extorted protection money from elderly market vendors, robbed a poor widow of her last penny, and beaten an oncoming citizen unconscious whenever he felt like it.

He had tempted his fate for a long time. The authorities had noticed Curtus, but one way or another he had always managed to avoid being caught. But in the end, it was time for Curtus to pay for his actions. In return for a hefty ransom, the gang leader had ordered him to kidnap the four-year-old son of a wealthy merchant.

It should have been an easy task to catch just one child. Unfortunately, everything had gone wrong from the start. Curtus had managed to break into the merchant's house and snatch the child from his bed. Then his luck had run out.

The merchant had been at home and found Curtus about to run away with a screaming little boy. He had grabbed his shotgun and blocked their escape route. With the child under his arm, Curtus had slipped out of the attic window onto the roof.

The boy had struggled and screamed his head off. The merchant had crept out of the window after them, his gun aimed again. Had Curtus been wise, he would have left the child behind and made a hasty escape. But in his greed, he had leapt to the roof.

After that, everything happened so quickly. The merchant had taken aim and a shot had hit Curtus in the calf. He had lost his balance and fallen from the roof with the boy in his arms. The fall had been fatal, and so had the consequences. Curtus had crumpled to the paved street, right on top of the merchant's four-year-old son.

The poor child was killed instantly when his head hit the cobblestones. Curtus, on the other hand, had survived the fall almost unharmed.

The soldiers of the City Guard had managed to prevent the grief-stricken merchant from shooting Curtus on the spot. So he was captured and charged with manslaughter. He was still not convicted because a man called Zaltarim Fizol persuaded the judge to dismiss Curtus' charges. Rumour had it that the judge had hidden crimes on his conscience, so it was not difficult to put pressure on him.

Zal took Curtus with him and allowed him to atone for his crimes by faithfully serving not only the Blue Moon, but most importantly, Zal himself. And so Curtus did.

The merchant who had lost his son still demanded a head on a platter. During the interrogations, Curtus had tried to protect himself by revealing the location of his gang's hideout. From there, the City Guard only managed to capture one member of the gang, a young boy called Rat. Delighted to have found a scapegoat for the merchant, the judge arranged for Rat to take Curtus' place in the prison cell.

It took years for Rat to use his craft and connections to escape from prison. But he still held a grudge for the time he had lost behind bars. Rat was a man who never forgot his enemies. In fact, the judge later died after being stabbed through the heart in his sleep.

Curtus Jerovann and Zaltarim Fizol were beyond Rat's reach. Rat, later better known as Isendar Vargan, made his way to the top, but Curtus did not think he had forgotten the past. And it was said that revenge tastes sweeter when it is delayed.

* * *

Curtus had travelled with Zal Fizol across the Inhabited World. He had witnessed Zal to slay a faceless beast and hordes of servants of the Darkness. Curtus had also travelled to the Bewitched Land as one of the Seven Companions, where he had fought the dreaders. He had been Zal's loyal warrior for over thirty years, but now Zal had found other uses for him.

He felt no bitterness, but he did feel a slight twinge of melancholy. Age was inevitably overtaking Curtus. As a fighter, he was no longer as capable as he once was. Zal now had younger and wiser helpers, such as beautiful Melgyera and cunning Ragart. The dusty roads were no place for old Curtus any more. That was why Zal had invited him to meet these strangers today.

Whatever Zal told him to do, Curtus obeyed. It had been so from the moment Zal Fizol had rescued him from the court, and it would be so from now on. Zal had believed in his desire to change and grow into a better man. Curtus had worked for decades to make up for the mistakes of his past. Not once had he betrayed Zal's trust. Therefore he would take on this new task with pride.

At that moment, Zal came back into the room and stood next to Curtus. Curtus sighed softly in relief. It was hard to share the silence with strangers, especially when one of the men was clearly not in his right mind.

"The preparations have progressed swiftly. We'll have you on your way again tomorrow," Zal said in a matter-of-fact voice. The blond-haired man with the child in his arms nodded and glanced at the woman standing a step away from him. She gave him a faint smile. Everything suggested that the couple were not as close as real husband and wife should be. Perhaps time would help, Curtus mused, hoping to learn to like them both.

"What about him?" Curtus asked Zal, pointing to the man on the sofa with his head hanging down.

"What about Avinnor?" the blond-haired man stammered unnecessarily. "Of course he's coming with us!"

The man sitting on the sofa made no gesture to indicate that he had heard any words about himself. Curtus said no more either, but waited for Zal's reply. If it were up to him, the man who had lost his mental balance would be left behind. In these times, there was no room for such a burden to endanger the safety of others.

"Can you take care of him?" Zal asked the fair-haired man.

"I looked after Avinnor all the way here. I'll take care of him in future as well. He is my brother," the man replied, giving Zal a challenging look.

Zal nodded. "All right then. We'll have to find something for him to do. He can't get over the loss of his wife and children, but he can learn to live with it if there is something meaningful to do."

The blond man frowned and looked at his brother, who mourned the cruel death of his own family. "I'm sure we'll come up with something," he said.

In addition to brotherly love, his concern was probably mixed with a sense of guilt. After all, he had made a terrible mistake. As a result, his brother Avinnor was now in this state, having lost his family and perhaps his sanity.

At the same time, the child in the man's arms whimpered and then burst into tears. "Well, he's finally awake," Zal said, somewhat amused. The blond man bent down to comfort the little one and he quickly fell silent.

"What's the boy's name?" Zal asked.

The blond man stroked the child's golden locks and answered: "He is Josel."

"Josel..." Zal began musingly. "It's a Malkanian name. Do you like it?"

"I gave it to him myself."

Zal smiled. "So be it, the child wouldn't be a believable Dimali anyway because of his hair color."

"Josel is the most important thing to me… to us," the man said, nodding at the blonde woman. "I'm not willing to do anything that would threaten him."

"Andreuz, I know that. We will make the boy's life as safe as possible, knowing your background. That's why Curtus Jerovann here beside me is going with you."

The man named Andreuz was now eyeing Curtus with much more interest. There was approval and curiosity in his probing gaze. An intelligent and benevolent man, Curtus concluded. Maybe he would really learn to like him.

Curtus also thought of little Josel. He would see the boy grow into adulthood. At that moment, Curtus decided to take care of the child as best he could. Let it be a kind of meager atonement for the fate of the four-year-old son of the merchant he had killed.

Zal seemed to realize that the couple needed more information about the man who came with them, and continued: "I give you my guarantee on Curtus. He has been in my service for over thirty years and is one of the confidants in the Blue Moon. He has travelled from one end of the world to the other and can use his rifle as well as his wits when needed. Dark forces are at your heels. Curtus, if anyone, knows our enemy. Keep him close and you will be far safer."

"A good man is always welcome to join us," said Andreuz. "Curtus, you would be a great help to us. I am already grateful to you." He nodded to Curtus and turned back to Zal. "But tell me, what is our destination?"

Zal looked at everyone in the room and then spoke: "You will all settle in a place called Paidos. It is a very ordinary medium-sized town in southern Andiol. Paidos is one of the most peaceful, prosperous and well-managed of the Dimali towns. Many things are certainly different from what you are used to in Malkania, but in this situation we can't help it."

"Thank you. Sounds better than I had hoped. But how safe is the town?" Andreuz asked.

Zal grunted before adjusting the position of his glasses. "If you mean are there any fallen, then of course I can't say for sure. Anyway, I have personally done some searching and neutralized a few possible cases. The town is as safe as it can be. I'm still trying to use my influence to get a certain trustworthy man appointed as provincial governor."

"Good. And what about our accommodation? At the moment my financial resources are poor, but..." Andreuz began with a worried look on his face.

"Everything has been taken care of," Zal said, waving his hand reassuringly. "You have been shown a very comfortable apartment on the second floor of a stone house. Curtus has a reasonable amount of money with him. More is available through intermediaries of the Blue Moon. You will not be in need. I've also arranged for a guide to help you with practical matters. Rummo Landez is a local general store owner and very helpful. He is not a member of the Blue Moon, but he owes me a debt of gratitude and will take care of any problems you may have. In fact, I think it's best that we keep contact with Castle Cache as minimal as possible. I don't necessarily trust everyone who dwells there. So please rely on Mr Landez. He and his wife have a son the same age as Josel. Perhaps the boys will become friends."

Andreuz muttered in agreement. Then something seemed to occur to him. "Paidos is certainly a good place for a boy to grow up, but what about my research? Will I be able to continue it?"

"I certainly wouldn't allow you to give up your research," Zal replied. "Some kind of cover is still necessary to silence inquiries. I do have a few ideas that I would like to share with you."

"Okay, let's talk soon," Andreuz told Zal, obviously pleased with the way things were going.

The old man let his gaze wander around all those present, the longest at the man still crouched on the sofa. Finally, he turned again to Andreuz. "It's late. Shall we let the others rest? Give the boy to his mother," Zal said meaningfully.

A woman called Idalae had said nothing during the whole conversation. Now she nodded and took the child wrapped in a blanket. As soon as she had the bundle in her arms, the little one began to squall in a petulant manner. She started to soothe him, a little uncertainly, and eventually calmed him down. Meanwhile, Curtus helped the man, who was grieving the death of his family, up from the sofa. He led him and the woman with the child to the bedrooms.

The house was surrounded by a night and frosty ground, but the small family who had fled their home were safe there. It was cosy and warm inside the house, even though outside there was a sharp wind blowing in the corners. The wind howled angrily, as if to tell of the rage and disappointment felt somewhere far away by the pursuer who had lost the family's trail.

But the pursuer had not given up. Everyone who took refuge in this house that winter night knew this. Except for one innocent little boy, who had no idea that fifteen years later he would be facing the same enemies his father had once managed to escape.

* * *