Heir of the Moonlight chapter 6

Thomas heard the twang of Gustav's bow, and then saw the man reloading and firing again. He heard the sound of arrows hitting the ground and the castle mixed with the cries of fallen men, taking their last breaths as they collapsed.

“Take a shift, Thomas, so you can see,” Gustav instructed.

Thomas picked up his bow and slid it into one of the slits. He started to fire a few shots, aiming for the few stragglers moving forward. He only hit 2 out of the 6 arrows he fired, and nodded at Gustav. Gustav came forward and began to shoot, and so the pattern continued. They would alternate every six shots, giving each of them enough time to rest their arms and to relax a little bit.

The draw on each of the bows was about 25 pounds, not as bad as it could have been. In archery classes, Thomas' bows had been about 20 each, so although it strained his arms a little bit, he was able to manage the six shots they each took. The excitement wore off, and it just became a routine. He felt no guilt as soldiers dropped dead on the banks of the moat, felt no remorse as the enemy staggered and collapsed, screaming and writhing in pain. Some part of him wished he felt some sort of emotion over other's deaths, but the other part of him was glad he was able to withstand it and not break down in front of Gustav and look like a pampered prince.

The battle dragged on for 2 hours, and the Moonlight army was clearly winning. They did have an obvious advantage, considering that they had both higher ground and more shelter, most likely more people as well. The attackers would send their soldiers to attack in waves, about 100 surging forward at one time. Once all the soldiers had been picked off by archers or other defenses, the enemy would regroup and form another plan, this one more daring than the last. Their plans were thwarted each time, however, and the Moonlight army was dominating.

Gustav and Thomas mastered their shift system until it became natural for them, moving fluidly as if they had been fighting together for years instead of just hours. There was never much to talk about, except a few occasional comments about the status of the enemy or congratulations on a good shot. The excitement started to die down, and eventually it became almost boring. A few arrows came close to the bars, but Thomas never really felt in any danger. He would duck when he saw an arrow on target for their tower, but no arrows managed to get right in the sweet spot.

Gustav had assured Thomas that he knew how to treat wounds, at least until a more qualified doctor was available or it was safe to venture outside their room, but Thomas wasn't convinced. Any type of treatment for a wound sounded quite painful, and Thomas doubted that they had any painkillers except possibly a strong alcohol. He had read books about old-fashioned medicine for soldiers, and the illustrations and descriptions had sounded so painful he had become nauseous. He couldn't imagine having something that painful happen to him, and it might not even fix the problem.

Eventually, Thomas could see the effect their snipers had had on the enemy. The massive attack of 2,000+ soldiers had died down to only a group of about 300 or so remaining, and then he saw the blessed sight of a whtie flag, raised high above the soldier's heads.

Gustav grinned and pulled Thomas into a hug, and there was loud cheering from down below. “They've surrendered!” someone shouted, and then there was absolute chaos as everyone ran around in celebration. Somehow, a few of the soldiers had gotten their hands on some wine, and they were pouring themselves some generous allotments when the king stepped into the room.

There was dead silence, and the soldiers who had been drinking sheepishly put their cups down and looked at their feet. The king shook his head disapprovingly, but addressed the general majority who had just been rambunctiously running around like out-of-control schoolchildren.

“Thomas and General Padlar, come with me.”

A burly man pushed through the crowd and nodded at Thomas, who nodded back. The king turned around and led them down the hallway to a large, round table that had been hastily assembled. A handful of other generals were already waiting there, and the drawbridge had been let down. The door was open, and a group of men were walking towards them.

“Put your weapons down!” the general called. “Come forward, unarmed, and we will discuss the terms of our agreement.”

Thomas stood up and looked at the men. On the far left was a stocky man, dressed in a blood-stained uniform, and with a long scar over his left eye. Next to him was a tall and lean man, his left bicep dark red. His arms hung limply at his side, but his height was so intimidating it made up for his lazy posture.

As Thomas made eye contact, he gasped. Blinking rapidly, he looked again, and even slapped himself gently to try and refresh his mind. He must be tired and seeing things, but as the man approached and started to speak, Thomas knew that he was not hallucinating. His mouth fell open wide, and as he struggled to find words, the man locked eyes with him, and Thomas felt a sinking pit open up in his stomach. He knew those eyes all too well, but had never expected to see them here.

They were the eyes of his father.

“Dad?” Thomas gasped.

“Thomas?” his dad asked, equally confused.

“What are you doing here?” they both said, at the same time.

The other men looked very confused. “Thomas, how do you know this man?” the king finally answered.

“He... He's my father,” Thomas answered, still in shock.

“This must be some sort of trick. You are all trying to deceive me and force me to give some sort of confession! Well, what do you want? You called me in for a meeting, but do you really want to just meet with me, or are you planning something more sinister?” Thomas' father challenged.

“Phillip, Phillip, slow down. We called you here for a meeting to discuss the terms of surrender, and that is exactly what we plan on doing. So please, have a seat, and ignore this incredible coincidence,” the king suggested.

“Very well, then,” Thomas' father, Phillip, agreed.

“I will keep this meeting short and simple. We have three terms of surrender that we have collectively agreed on. Number one, all weapons are to be left here, functional and non-functional, no exceptions. If this condition is broken, we have the right to kill the offender. Number two, no more hostile advances or attacks by your government, led by any of your generals, will be tolerated. Any attack of this nature will be considered an act of war, and we will respond as such. And number three, you all must agree to compensate for any damage caused in the course of this war by either side. We have caluclated that this will cost a total of 7,000 gold bits and 4,000 silver bits, to be paid in full 3 moon cycles from now.”

Phillip nodded slowly. “Where is the paper?”

“Here.” The king slid a thick scroll over to Phillip, who read through the entire packet meticulously before signing it with a flourish and handing it back over to the king.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” the king said.

“It was no trouble. We appreciate your time.” Phillip stood up to leave, and Thomas looked pleafully at him.

“Where are you going?”

“I am returning to our home, Thomas,” his father said.

“Can I come with you?”

The king opened his mouth to protest, but Phillip grabbed Thomas' hand and shouted a few words rapidly, and then everything was spinning. His father was whipped away from him by a strong wind that started up, and Thomas felt himself freefall through space. He closed his eyes as he was whirled around, tossed up and down and to one side and another until he felt something concrete beneath him.

Cold fingers were grabbing at him, and Thomas began to struggle. He opened one eye and felt his dad looking down at him disapprovingly. “It's time to get up, Thomas. Hurry, you're late!”

“I'm not going anywhere with you, traitor!” Thomas shouted.

His dad turned around. “Excuse me?”

“You betrayed the Land of Moonlight!” Thomas yelled.

“What are you talking about?” his dad asked.

“Don't play dumb, Dad. You know exactly what happened there. You were leading the army to attack me, and almost killed me! You almost killed your own son, Dad! How could you do that to me?”

His fatehr sat down heavily on the bed. “I was afraid this might happen.”

Thomas was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

His father sighed deeply. “Did you dream you were in the Land of Moonlight, too?”

Thomas nodded, suddenly feeling very foolish. It had only been a dream, a very vivid dream, but a dream nonetheless. “Yeah. Don't tell me you dreamed about it, too.”

“Not tonight, but it runs in the family. What side did you choose?”

“What do you mean?” Thomas was suddenly confused again. Was it a dream? He didn't know anything anymore.

“Were you on the Moonlight side, or the Shadow side?”

“I was on the Moonlight side, and in my dream, you were the leader of the Shadow army!”

“That is incredible,” Phillip breathed.

“Why? What's so special about it?”

“Well, when I was your age, I dreamed about it, too. I was the son of the king and queen of the Moonlight army, but I was kidnapped by the Shadow Army and brainwashed into becoming the general for those people. Everyone thought I had died, and the king and queen were heartbroken.”

“You're kidding,” Thomas gasped.

“What?”

“Well, the queen was convinced I was her son, and the king couldn't dissuade her, so I stayed there and fought against you in the Shadow Army and we defeated them!”

“That is truly remarkable, Thomas. I guess our family really is special after all,” Phillip grinned.

“I still can't believe that. It's pretty awesome.”

“Thomas!” Thomas' mother called. “Hurry! You're going to be late for school!”

Thomas rushed down the stairs. “Hi, Mom! Thanks for having me take archery lessons. They were a lot of fun!”

Thomas' mother looked surprised. “You said you hated them.”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind,” Thomas said.

“Well, have a good day at school, and don't forget, Maggie's coming after school to help tutor you.”

Thomas smiled. “I'll see you after school, then.”

As he packed his lunch and ran out the door, he grinned. It was good to be home.