The Continuing Adventures of Draco Moonbeam

Draco slept in that morning. His body was still stressed from the chase the previous night. And his mind was also perturbed.

Late in the morning, almost at midday, he descended from his upstairs room to the main floor of the inn. He took a seat at a table. A servant boy quickly attended him and took an order for some fried eggs and ham with cider.

As he ate, he felt the eyes of the young innkeeper watching him. But Draco didn’t let it bother him. He continued to eat alone and savored the warmth of the fare.

After he finished, he remained seated at the table for a while to relax.

The innkeeper approached him, appearing nervous.

“Are you all right, sir?” asked the young balding man with a neatly trimmed goatee.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” replied Draco.

“I’m sorry. It’s just rare to get travelers around here much. You’re the first in quite some time.”

Draco looked at him, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

The young man continued, “Well, for the last year or so, the few travelers we do get often arrived injured or hurt. But you seem to be well.”

When Draco continued to look quizzically at him, the innkeeper explained, “Most people barely manage these dangerous roads. Didn’t you have any trouble getting here last night?”

Draco nodded. “A pack of wolves announced themselves with their teeth. I just made sure they ate their intentions.”

The innkeeper looked surprised. “They attacked you? And you didn’t get hurt? Or killed?”

“Well, I am seated here before you, in the flesh. So, no. I’m not dead. Hurt? No, not really. Just shaken up a bit.”

“I understand,” continued the young man as he cleared Draco’s plate and refilled his drink with cider. “You’re a rare one. The great majority that come here don’t share your luck. They arrive hurt, if at all. Perhaps destiny has a different course for you.”

The man left Draco to enjoy his drink. The cider was somewhat fermented but not strong. Probably from the previous fall’s harvest.

Afterwards, Draco retired to his room to rest. He planned to leave early the next morning. Daylight would make his passage much safer.

Late that afternoon, before dinner, Draco received a knock at his door. He wondered whom it might be.

He opened the door to see an old man, small and thin, wearing a long black coat over what appeared to be a black robe. He looked nervous as he looked down the hall.

“May I come in?”

Draco opened the door wide and motioned the man inside.

“I’m Brother Wenton. I’m with the church on the hill. You’re the man who arrived here last night, right?”

Draco motioned the elderly man to a soft chair in the corner. “Yes. I got here late last night. How can I help you?”

“A most interesting question, Mr. …?” the man asked, trailing off.

“My name is Draco Moonbeam. I’m from Cloudgate. On my way to Pridda.”

“Mr. Moonbeam. You CAN help. Most assuredly.” Brother Wenton looked at Draco with pleading eyes. “We have a most unique problem here in High Church. And your arrival is much more providential than you can possibly realize.”

Draco interrupted. “I’m really just passing through. I don’t intend to stay past tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to change your plans. Surely you have some important business to attend to. But this town is under a serious curse. I can’t pinpoint the exact problem. But it all starts and ends with Lord Morlys and his lady. They seem pleasant, friendly, even gracious. But under their lordship over High Church this town has suffered an unspeakable evil. Children go missing. Sometimes the youth just disappear. And they leave no trace. Parents grieve over their loss. We have no answers. Nothing makes sense.”

Draco responded, “And you think that the Lord and Lady of this town are to blame?”

“Well, the Lord and Lady are very friendly, even fond of the children. They dote on them. Gifts and celebrations. But it’s the ones who most catch their fancy who later disappear. The Sheriff says that he follows all leads in his investigations. But I truly doubt it.”

“Brother Wenton, I would help. But I have an important errand to attend to in the Capital. These aren’t my children. And this isn’t my fight.”

Even as he said those words, Draco felt the pangs of his conscience.

The priest looked at Draco in the eyes. “I don’t have any children of my own. The business of seeing to the spiritual needs of the people has prevented that. But I love the children of this town as if they were mine. Now, I don’t know if you have children or even care for them. But I truly believe you were destined to arrive here. You surely possess some powers of your own that enabled your safe arrival. And surely you have a heart. This may not be your fight. But we need you in a most desperate way.”

Draco gulped. His heart tore at him from the inside.

Brother Wenton added. “Just stay a bit. There is a special celebration tomorrow at the Manor. A birthday dinner for Lady Vara. Please be my guest. See for yourself, with your own eyes, before you decide to leave.”

Draco acquiesced. “Ok. I’ll go with you. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.”

Brother Wenton jumped up and grabbed Draco’s hands. He shook them vigorously. “Thank you! Thank you! And please be my guest at the rectory. I’ll give you a private room there.”

Draco agreed. He picked up his backpack and cloak and followed the priest up the hill to the church.