Black Moon Draw

Black Moon Draw

By Lizzy Ford

http://www.LizzyFord.com/
 

Cover design by Eden Crane Design

http://www.EdenCraneDesign.com/

 
Cover design copyright © 2014 by Eden Crane Design

http://www.EdenCraneDesign.com/

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

The Shadow Knight of Black Moon Draw lifted his boar’s head to the sky, worn yet energized by the day at battle. As the battle-witch had promised, he had won shortly after sunset and stood, triumphant, over the body of his slain enemy. The battlefields were littered with the dead and dying, enemies slaughtered by his bloodlust and brute strength, and the bodies of men who served him. He counted the dead then nodded in satisfaction.

It was a good day. Except he needed a new witch. His lay among the corpses, her purple robes fluttering in the late summer breeze.

With seven kingdoms conquered and three remaining to oppose him, he did not have time to celebrate his victory with a feast. The end of the era was coming, and with it, the fulfillment of a thousand-year curse that gave him little time to find the last great battle-witch he had sought for ages. The Heart of Black Moon Draw was depending on him. There was no way he was going to fail.

My phone rings, jarring me out of the reading zone where I’ve been hiding from reality all day. I blink at the words on the screen of my laptop to help me return from the world of Black Moon Draw and then snatch the cell phone on the desk beside my mouse.

“Hello,” I answer groggily. Sitting back, I wipe my nose with my palm. The tears stopped a while ago. My nose is still running.

“Hey, baby. Saw your Facebook post,” my mother says. “Sorry to hear about Jason.”

“Shit happens, Mom,” I mumble. “Real life’s so much stranger than fiction.”

“Is the wedding really off or is this something you’re both working through?”

I flinch, lost for a moment. I’ve spent the past year preparing to dedicate my life to the man I thought was my true love, only for him to tell me he’s found someone else, a week before the wedding.

Someone more
grounded
, he claims.

I hope she’s ugly.
It’s a terrible thought, but I can’t help it.

“It’s off, Mom,” I answer. “He says I spend too much time with fictional people when I should be in the real world with real people.”

My mother is silent.

I know she’s working hard not to utter an
I-told-you-so.
Jason isn’t the first person to try to pry me out of the land of the nonexistent and he isn’t the first to leave my life over it.

Probably not the last.
I’d like to think I
have
to lose myself in books. I’ve been a librarian for a year now and one of my tasks is to help identify great books to feature at the library. It’s a perfect job. All I do when not behind the desk at work is read. If I don’t keep reading, how will I know if I’ve found the next great thing? There’s some vindication for a bookworm who reads an awesome book before it’s mainstream.

“He was good for you,” my mother says. “But what’s important is your happiness. Maybe this will encourage you to try to get out more?”

“I don’t
want
to get out more. I’m happy being an introverted hermit. I don’t care how poor or anti-social I am! If that’s not good enough for him . . .” I fight back tears.

“Okay, baby.” My mother clears her throat. “Anything I can do for you?”

“No. Thanks, Mom.”

“Let me know if you want to go out for a cinnamon roll or something.”

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hang up, tired of being upset. My eyes blur as I stare at the screen of my laptop.

Black Moon Draw
is the name of the story that’s waiting for me, an unfinished fantasy novel I found on Wattpad, a site where authors write books in real time by uploading a new chapter every so often.

I discovered it this morning, after finishing everything in my Kindle on my to-be-read list and then surfing the net for more books by my favorite author, a mysterious figure who goes by the initials LF. There’s no website or bio anywhere for this author and I was thrilled to discover this partially finished story after rolling through her catalog over a period of three days. I assume LF is a woman – most romance writers are.

This book was written for my shitty week.

It features the ultimate, non-redeemable character, the Shadow Knight of Black Moon Draw, whose soul is so black, the sun can’t warm its depths. The violent, half-man, half-beast knight rules a kingdom where there is no daylight, only the perpetual fog and grayness of twilight. He spends his lifetime in battles and steamrolls over everyone in his path.

There’s no peace, no love, no hope in Black Moon Draw. Only death and destruction and a knight who doesn’t know mercy or forgiveness.

“I love this. I wish I could chop off people’s heads with one strike,” I murmur, rereading the last little bit before the chapter ends. “Freaky but cool.”

The book speaks to me, which is why I keep hitting refresh on my browser in the hopes that the author has updated in the time it took me to read. Thinking about the knight makes me shiver. He’s sexy in a very caveman way. Definitely not civilized, which fits my brittle mood today.

I glance at the television and sit up straight, exhausted after spending the day alternately crying and reading. I’ve had my four all-time favorite movies –
Labyrinth, The Princess Bride, The Neverending Story,
and
Pride and Prejudice –
playing on a loop all day. I’m on vacation this week and supposed to be in the final stages of planning a wedding, not stuck in my house.

Now I’m just gonna spend what’s left from the wedding fund on books to help me escape my miserable life.

Pushing away from the desk, I go to the bathroom and stare at my bleary appearance. My hair is in a lumpy ponytail, my eyes rimmed with red, and nose red as well. I’ve spent the day eating ice cream and am almost surprised it doesn’t already show on my otherwise trim body. A true bookworm introvert who hates to leave the house, I’ve done a thirty-minute yoga video religiously every day in my living room for the past three years since leaving my mom’s house. With striking blue-gray eyes and dark hair, I’m pretty but also plain.

According to Jason. What a bastard.
I can count the number of compliments he’s given me since we met on one hand. Our relationship is always like a rollercoaster: brief periods of euphoria followed by months of despair.

I wash my face before returning to my desk.

“Take me away, mysterious LF,” I tell the laptop.

I go down the checklist I made of essential characters that appear in every one of LF’s books. Part of the fun is figuring out who is whom before the author reveals it.

“I’ve got the Fool, the Betrayer, the Devoted-but-Doomed guy, the Red Herring, the Loyal Second-in-Command, Beautiful Maiden, Love Interest, Villain, a bunch of minions . . .” I pause. My thoughts go to the Shadow Knight. “The Hero. Hmm. Can the biggest, most violent, mysterious, and relentless badass - with no possibility of redemption - be a hero?”

I lean back and sigh.

“No, he can’t,” I answer my own question. “And a . . . creature like him can never have a love interest. No one in their right mind would want to be with him.” Normally I’m able to spot the end game of a novel a couple of chapters in, but this is something different entirely. “How can a book have no hero or love story? What the hell is LF doing?”

The Shadow Knight is unlike any of the characters LF has ever written about. He doesn’t fit any of the profiles of the essential characters LF includes in her books and thinking about him makes me feel . . . edgy. Scared or uneasy because he seems so real. When I read his passages, I can almost hear his deep, gravelly voice and smell the scent of horse leathers.

Which is silly. It’s the sign of a great author, not me going crazy. Besides, what reader fears fictional characters?

“So we have a romance with no hero and no love story.” I rest my head on my desk, exhausted. “I didn’t think that was possible. At least he’s sexy.”

Unable to see how his mind works like I can the other characters, I’ve been locked in a silent battle with him since starting the first chapter. I want to hate him for being what he is, but find myself compelled to reread every one of his passages instead.

Fed up, I close the laptop. The
last
thing I want today is a story I have to dissect. I need a distraction, not another stupid man intent on infuriating me.

“You’re giving me a headache. You and every other man on this planet,” I mutter to the imaginary knight. “What the hell are you waiting for? Why don’t you just tell me your story the way every other character does? And why is it taking LF so long to upload a new chapter?”

A fictional man, of course, can’t answer.

“At least you’re mortally wounded at the battle of Brown Sun Lake, you bastard. I’m hoping she leaves you that way. I can’t believe she misspelled
coincidence
twice in the first two chapters, either. Ever heard of spell-check, LF?” I ask no one in particular. “You’re stressing me out! You know what will make this easier? Wine.”

I’ve got a couple of nice bottles I had been saving for the wedding rehearsal. I’m halfway to the kitchen when I realize there’s something else I’ve been saving for that occasion.

The gorgeous, purple dress my mother bought me.

Halting, I debate whether or not drinking wine in a fancy dress at home makes me desperate or is a reasonable way to cope.

One of my three cats meows from his spot on the kitty jungle gym in one corner. My shoulders slump.

“You’re right. I really am gonna end up a crazy, single, cat lady,” I whisper, new tears forming. “Why can’t the heroes in books be real?”

My cat blinks at me, but doesn’t answer.

“I hate my life. There’s no happily-ever-after in the real world.” I’d give anything for a do-over, another chance to be someone worthy of a fictional Hero instead of a wallflower with insecurity issues.

Pretty certain I’ll die a crazy old maid, I decide to wear my prettiest dress, break out the wine and chocolate and watch
Pride and Prejudice
. Maybe when I wake up in the morning, there will be a new chapter waiting for me.

The Shadow Knight paced across Blue Star Bridge, the wooden and stone walkway that arched across the river dividing his kingdom, Black Moon Draw, from his eastern neighbors of White Tree Sound.

He stopped in the middle, listening to the sounds of night. Somewhere, an animal splashed into the shallow waters, probably chasing its dinner, while the calls of owls and other night birds rose from the forest at his back. He didn’t register the night chill that skated across his muscular form. Built with the power of a bear and the agility of a panther, he was poised and ready to fight. The sword at his back was taller than a full-grown woman and the axe, daggers, whip, and other weapons at his belt were polished and waiting for their next kill.

Ignoring the nervous band of White Tree Sound sentries that stood on one end of the bridge, he swung his massive boar’s head around to look at his surroundings. Moonlight trickled through the fog shrouding Black Moon Draw and reflected off the slow moving river below.

“M’lord,” a quiet voice said from behind him. “You will cross Blue Star Bridge this night?”

The bridge was the established border of his lands. He had paid little heed to the kingdom on the other side, with whom he had a truce born out of necessity rather than desire. He had too many other battles to fight to worry about this peace-devoted enemy. He alone could take the forty sentries bunched around the end of the bridge, but the army beyond the forests would require some planning and more men than he had to spare in order to defeat them.