Moon Summoned

By Janet Lane Walters

Three Moon Summoned women. Ashiera the Seer who controls the winds and sees into the thoughts of others. Dian the Warrior who controls fire and fights with the sword. Egeria the Healer who controls fluids and heals those who are injured. They are joined in their battle by Sieper a sailor who knows the winds, Kobe once sworn to the Lord of Shadows and Jetan a healer of animals. These three vow to help the three women against those sworn to Evil.
Lugal the Cabal reads the winds and thoughts. Sargon the Gladius controls fire and the armies of the Lord of Shadow. Lugal the Cabal has knowledge of herbs and uses them for evil. These three with their cohorts will face the three and three sworn to the Mistress of the Moons.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BWL Publishing Inc.
• Release date: Dec 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9780228615927

Janet Lane Walters

Janet Lane Walters has been writing and published since the days of the typewriter. She has 30 plus novels and seven novellas plus four non-fiction books published. Janet lives in the scenic Hudson River valley with her husband, a psychiatrist who has no desire to cure her obsession with writing.She is the mother of four and the grandmother of five with two children expected to arrive soon from China. Janet writes in a number of genres - Romance from sweet to sensual and from contemporary to fantasy and paranormal. She has published cozy mysteries and medical suspense. She also has a number of YA fantasies published.

Book preview

Moon Summoned

Moon Rising

Janet Lane Walters

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 978-0-2286-1637-5

Kindle 978-0-2286-1591-0

PDF 978-0-2286-1592-7

2nd Ed. Copyright 2020 Janet Lane Walters

Cover art by Michelle Lee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Prologue

Eclipse

The setting sun brought shadows creeping along the mountain slopes. From the battle lines stretched across the plateau, the smell of blood mingled with the dust. Metal clanged against metal. Shouts, curses and screams filled the air. The moans of the wounded broke the Seer’s concentration on the amber light streaming from the crystal atop her staff. The beam sent a jagged pattern through the growing darkness.

A piercing cry arose. The ruby ray from the Warrior’s sword shot toward the sky. The Healer darted among the fallen and knelt beside the sorely wounded woman. Blue light from the Healer’s wand focused on the Warrior’s wounds. The Healer poured life-sustaining energy through the azure beam.

Gusts of wind drove thick waves of fog from the mountain peaks to obscure the plain and to cover the retreat of the women. A cluster of the servants of the Mistress of the Moons, clad in tunics of amber, red and blue, stumbled after those who bore the Warrior. They carried her between a pair of standing stones into a narrow passage that led to a crater lake and the Place of Choosing.

The Seer stumbled and would have fallen if the Healer hadn’t caught her arm. Together they moved through the fog. The edges of their cloaks brushed the standing stones.

How much time have we? the Healer asked.

The Seer tightened her grip on the staff. I pray enough to complete the ritual before the eclipse hides the light of the moon.

The Healer guided the other woman into the narrow passage. With the coming of the fog, the bright moon and the dark moon have risen. We must succeed or all is lost for the One we serve.

Pray our call is answered before the next eclipse and the time of the lunar of the dark moon. For now and to all eternity, the thirteenth moon, the dark moon will rise each year to fill the sky.

We must wait thirteen years before this comes to pass. Pray the Mistress of the Moons will hold the Queen of Darkness at bay so the ones we call will have a chance.

Unless those who serve the Lord of Shadows call the Queen forth.

The Healer sucked in a breath. Never will the ones who serve the shadowed one share the rule.

The Seer sighed. Mistress bless. So be it. We will call, the Three will come and all will be as it has been. Unlike those in the other nomes, we can’t allow a drastic change to alter what we’ve built.

Agreed, the Healer said.

They emerged from the passage and walked across the rock-strewn earth to the crater lake. The walls on three sides formed a crescent around the pool.

The Seer marshaled enough strength to walk unassisted. Her hair, darkened by age, flew wildly around her face. The Healer’s hair was as black as a night beneath the dark moon.

The remaining women clustered at the edge of the lake. The Seer and the Healer took the ends of the stretcher on which the Warrior lay. They waded through the cool water to the isle in the center of the lake. Gently they laid their companion on the pale rock. The Healer placed the Warrior’s sword on her chest and crossed the woman’s arms beneath the orb in the hilt.

Those who served the Mistress as seers, warriors and healers held torches aloft.

The ebon globe slid across the surface of the pale golden moon. The Seer passed her hand over the head of her staff. From the depths of the amber crystal, a band of pale yellow light flowed.

From out of time and out of space, we three, Seer, Warrior, Healer, send our spirits questing for those who will continue the battle against the Lord of Shadows. We call for those who will keep the faith exactly as we have. Mistress of the Moons, pray keep the Queen of Darkness in bonds so you will prevail.

The Healer raised her wand. The blue crystal on the tip flared and blue light shone. The time of passing is upon us. Her voice held neither fear nor anticipation. Moon bright becomes Moon dark. May this eclipse add strength to our quest.

The dark orb continued its stately progress across the face of the moon. The Seer held her staff so the light shone across the body of the Warrior. How fares our sister?

The Healer pressed a hand against the Warrior’s chest. Her heart beats, but her body weakens. Can she bring forth the light of her sword?

The Mistress will sustain her.

The Healer gasped. From the ruby crystal embedded in the hilt of the Warrior’s sword, a red ray rose to touch the blue and amber. Just as our lights unite, we three are one.

Moon Bright, Moon dark,

Mistress of the Moons.

From out of time,

From the depths of space.

Call the Three,

Seer, Warrior, Healer.

Empower them.

From conception comes the thought.

From the thought rises the desire.

From desire springs the seed.

And the fruit becomes the harvest,

Ending shadows, bringing light.

The women who had gathered at the edge of the lake added their voices to those of the Three. Once, twice, thrice, they intoned the call. As the dark globe completely covered the moon, they plunged their torches into the water. Clouds of herb-scented smoke obscured the isle. When the sun rose only a staff, a sword and a wand remained.

* * * *

Together the three men rolled a huge stone across the mouth of the inner cave where the bodies of the Triad who had once ruled the three branches of the priesthood of the Lord of Shadows had been buried. Their powers had been spent during the battle with those who served the Mistress of the Moons.

Gamish, now Thamaturg brushed his hands on his gray-tinged blue robe. The buried men had begun what he and his co-rulers would finish. ‘Tis done, he said.

What now? Lugal, the Cabal asked.

We go to the land they prepared for us. Sargon, the Gladius, strode to the scrying pool. Surely the under-priests and princes have had enough time to subdue the people of Keltoi.

I fear we must complete the taming, Gamish said. They are a most stubborn and ungrateful people. He started toward the cavern mouth.

First let us use the pool to see what those whose mantles we wear wrought during the battle. The Cabal rubbed his fleshy hands in anticipation.

Wouldn’t if be better to foresee what will come, Gamish thought. Though if these two have no inkling of what may happen, my plans will bear the fruit I crave."

Sargon gestured to the pool. Who begins?

Gamish censed the dark water. For an instant, the cloud of noxious smoke obscured the pool. Let us see what has passed. A glow from beneath swelled. Pictures formed of the battle on the plateau near the sacred place of those who served the Abomination. Lugal and Sargon watched the changing scenes with avid interest.

Would they see what he had? Gamish fought a desire to laugh. Did the Cabal and the Gladius know the battle wasn’t finished? Did they know the Queen of Darkness was the other face of the Mistress, just as the Lord of Light held the Lord of Shadows in his depths?

Lugal waved the serpent rod over the water. Now the victory horns will sound. The serpent raised its head. A stream of venom shot into the pool. With slow sensuous movements Lugal stroked the snake.

Gamish held in a snort of disdain. He had no liking for his co-rulers. Neither man seemed to know that what had been fought must be met again. In all the times of watching the scene of confrontation, hadn’t they noticed the bodies of the Three weren’t among the dead?

The Gladius laughed. Look, the Warrior has fallen. The power of the Three is broken. Flames flowed along his sword, touched the water and raised clouds of steam.

Just as the fog had rolled from the mountains to hide the retreat of the priestesses, Gamish thought. His lip curled. His co-rulers were fools. Did they think the nome of Keltoi belonged to the Lord of Shadows? In the future, a second eclipse loomed. Unless those chosen to succeed the Three were found before the power was passed, the battle would be fought anew. No matter what the others thought, he would plan, and where a Triad now ruled, he would stand alone.

The rock floor of the cave shook. From the earth a rumble sounded. Gamish grasped the censor. We must be away and make haste to our destination.

Lugal nodded. A ship waits on the shore.

Sargon strode ahead of them. We go to claim the reward our predecessors forged for us.

Gamish followed the pair from the cavern. As he stepped into the night, he stared at the waning moon. Clouds gathered in the sky. The tremors of the earth grew in magnitude. A great roar rose from the cave. The place where those who had once ruled the three orders of the Lord of Shadows were interred was swallowed for all time.

Just as I will swallow my enemies, Gamish thought. During his childhood in the stronghold of his father, he had learned his skills in secret planning. His talent had taken him from that house, but the trickery he’d learned there had earned him his present position. Though the Three would rise again, he would prevail. He would raise a woman to corrupt the Three and thus Seer, Warrior, Healer would be his to command.

Book One

New Moon

The Seat of Judgment

Fighting tears, Catherine Wheeler slumped on a bench at the end of the hospital corridor. The smell of disinfectant mingled with the odors of human suffering, fear and death. Ever since the young doctor had come to her husband’s room and pronounced Tommy dead, she’d felt like a ship torn from its moorings. She glanced at the wall where peeling green paint told of age and neglect. Place is old, like me, she thought.

The elevator creaked to a halt and the doors opened. A gurney with high sides and a dark cover emerged. As two grim men pushed the cart past her, the wheels squealed.

Though she’d told the nurse she was leaving, Catherine had needed to wait until her husband left the unit. Pain like the gnawing of a mouse bit into her heart and brought waves of dizziness.

The pain faded. The squeaking gurney returned. She half-rose and sank back. Why couldn’t she take this final ride with him?

The rules, she thought. The unfairness of a system that kept people from their dead angered her. She should have been the one to wash his body and to close his eyes. A momentary desire to challenge the rule the way she’d fought other edicts years ago arose. But she was too old, too tired.

She sucked in a shuddering breath and watched the gurney disappear behind the closing elevator doors. Tommy had been four years her senior and she was glad he’d gone before her. He would have been lost without her, just as she would be without him. Sixty-three years of living with the same man made thoughts of being alone frightening. He’d been her life. Together they’d faced problems and found solutions. With a sigh she rose and pressed for the elevator.

Outside the humid air, redolent with exhaust fumes and the stench of garbage, made her cough. Pain circled her heart. Before crossing the street to reach the bus stop, she paused to catch her breath. When her strength returned she plodded to the other side. There she glanced at a display of bears in a toy store window.

The images wavered. She pressed her hands against the glass. Three dolls formed a tableau against a painted backdrop showing a mountain lake and a pale moon in a dark sky. The center figure captured her attention. The doll wore a deep amber robe and golden brown boots. In her hand, she held a staff topped by an amber crystal.

The need to hold the doll burned as hot as the pain in her chest. As she opened the shop door, a bell tinkled. The young woman behind the counter looked up, then began buffing her nails again.

Catherine lifted the doll from the case. Why this urgent wish to possess this doll? She had no child or grandchild. Pain, agonizing and exquisite, exploded in her chest. She crumpled to the floor.

The clerk jumped to her feet. Why had the old biddy wandered in? The young woman knelt beside old lady. "Hey, are you all right? When there was no answer, she searched for a pulse. Her eyes widened. The woman was dead.

She reached for the phone and called for an ambulance. Had the old lady taken something from the window? A check of the bears showed none were missing.

Moments later the ambulance arrived.

* * * *

A moan of pleasure escaped the lips of the woman named Ashiera. As Sieper found his release, his arms tightened around her. He rolled to his side and held her against his chest. His lips brushed her honey-colored hair. He inhaled the fragrance of the herbs she used as a rinse. As always, her amber eyes were devoid of expression.

Sunshine streamed through the windows of the sleeping chamber, clothing them in colored light. Chips of multi-hued crystals embedded in the headboard of the massive bed splashed bright tints on the sheets.

He stroked her smooth skin. The Cabal and his mind mages named you as an undead. Thus I claimed you as my reward for their use of my ship for their cargoes. His jaw clenched for the service hadn’t been a willing gift but one demanded. No man of Keltoi dared to refuse the orders of the priests of the Lord of Shadows.

She pressed her lips against his chest. For years, he’d carried her image in his heart, but he’d never believed she would be his for more than the single night they’d once shared. Since then, his life had changed again and again. From deck hand to officer and then to ship owner.

He thought of the day he and the Wind Skimmer had sailed into Zandara. The holds had been filled with exotic goods from the other nomes and, he’d had hopes of enough profit to outfit a second ship. Alas, those dreams had come to naught. The priests had seized control of Keltoi. Since the defeat of the Mistress, the gray robes and their minions had ruled the nome. Their taxes had eaten most of his profits and for nearly thirteen years he’d sailed at their bidding.

His hands curled into fists. I’ve worked hard and dreamed of a fleet of ships, but these hopes slip further from my grasp. He stared into Ashiera’s empty amber eyes. Why do I tell you these things? Do you even hear me?

For an instant, he thought he saw a flicker of awareness in her eyes. A foolish thought. Under the Cabal’s torture, her mind had fled.

Gently he stroked her face and traced her lips. Nineteen years ago she’d been his for a night. He’d been the one she’d chosen for her passage from maiden to woman. Their joining, hot and urgent, had created a dream of forever with her.

He caressed her breasts. Her nipples tightened and she moved against him. Though her mind had fled, her body remembered the ways of passion. He wanted to hear his name on her lips, but since the day he’d claimed her from the pens, she hadn’t spoken.

He kissed her. Regret that he’d begun what there wasn’t time to finish filled his voice. My love, we must leave soon. The Wind Skimmer sails on the evening tide. Until I return you will bide with Maran’s wife. He pulled her to her feet. Remember, you are mine.

Was that a flash of denial he saw in her eyes? Her forehead wrinkled and she opened her mouth. A croaking sound emerged. He waited. Would she speak?

After long moments of silence, he walked with her to the bathing room where a glass dome filled the room with light and heated the pool. Like a child, she played in the water, but she uttered no happy sounds, not did the placid expression on her beautiful face change.

He dressed her in a shimmering spidersilk gown. The iridescent fabric reminded him of the gown she’d worn the night she’d walked in the garden of the Mistress and had taken his hand. He pulled on trousers and a shirt that laced at the sides.

Come, we must eat. With his hand at her waist, he steered her to the garden room.

A wall of glass bricks let in light and distorted the lush growth outside. The table, set for two, stood near the wide door leading into the yard. A maid checked the clothes hanging on the line. Her spouse leaned against the wall and watched her work. In these days, no woman walked through town unguarded lest she be taken by the priests. Even in their homes, there was little safety if a priest wanted new women for the pens.

Ashiera, Sieper whispered.

She stared. Who is Ashiera?

You are and you are mine.

As though a black curtain had been torn, her expression changed. No. She backed away.

He went to her. What do you remember?

Her eyes reflected myriad emotions. Dying, yet I live. Heated winds searing my head. Falling into darkness. I am Ashiera, but I don’t remember taking vows with you.

Much has changed in Keltoi. The Lord of Shadows has placed his shroud over the people. The Mistress and her servants are gone.

Gone! Who protects the land and makes sure the seasons follow their proper courses? She bowed her head. Once I sat on the seat of judgment. Once I knew the lore and the legends. I solved disputes and made prophecies for those who asked for sight.

He caressed her shoulders in an attempt to leach the tension from her taut muscles. Those days are no more.

She looked up. All is gone.

His thumbs brushed her cheeks. Alas, ‘tis the truth. Since you are now aware, I can’t leave you in Zandara. You must come with me, for you are mine.

His words frightened her. She couldn’t be a prisoner. Though his blue-green eyes were kind, she couldn’t sail with him. There was a place she must find and she couldn’t let anyone stop her. Yet, she wished she could remain with him.

She touched his face and explored the rugged features. She ran her hands through the honey-hued hair that brushed his broad shoulders. He was a man she could love forever, but the compulsion to flee his tender care grew unbearable. Her muscles tensed for flight.

His arms closed around her like a cage. Sail with me.

She struggled to free herself from his embrace. She couldn’t. She had to leave.

A voice sounded in her head. Come! Now!

Ashiera grabbed a heavy crystal salt cellar and smashed it against his head. He staggered and fell, pulling her atop him. Until she caught her breath, she listened to the steady beat of his heart. He groaned. She jumped to her feet. As she raced across the garden to the gate, she pulled clothes from the line.

* * * *

Twilight darkened the sky before Ashiera found a hiding place in a dark alley doorway. The stench of rotting fish and the brine-laden air made her swallow against the burning fluid that rose in her throat. Rustling noises brought a prayer that none of the alley’s denizens would attack her. She dozed, woke and dozed again. Memories of the past rose in broken fragments, but each time she woke, she found more pieces were joined.

Sieper. Bits of the things she’d heard years ago in the marketplace were remembered. Rumors of his ability to read the weather surfaced. How could he possess such a talent? The Mistress touched women, never men. Did he serve the Lord of Shadows? He’d spoken of ownership and of her as being a reward from the Cabal. Had Sieper been one of the men who had lurked and awaited the arrival of the gray priests?

She sighed. Would she ever regain all the memories of the time before her capture?

She rolled the too long trouser legs and used a scrap of cloth torn from her gown as a belt. The sleeves of the shirt hung well below her hands and she pushed them up. How fortunate she’d been to find Sieper’s clothes on the line. As she’d fled through the alleys, she’d peered into the streets. The few women she’d seen had been escorted by one or even several men.

While she waited for true dark, she fingered the scar on her wrist. Her hand flew to her mouth and she stifled a scream.

An obese man, head shaved and scalp oiled, faced her. He held a metal rod with a serpent curled around the staff. A globe of swirling mist topped the rod. Her body trembled. The evil in the priest’s thoughts nauseated her. The serpent raised its head. The fangs bit into her wrist and sent molten fire through her veins. An endless scream echoed in her head and she sought darkness as she had before.

When Ashiera emerged from the place where night was eternal, a few stars shone in the sky. A pale sliver moon had risen. She struggled to her feet and exercised muscles stiffened by the cramped position.

Flee. Leave the city.

The urgency of the command made her lose all caution. Who are you?

The Place of Choosing. You must go there.

"Where is this place?

In the Shanara Mountains.

As she left the wharf area, she slid from shadow to shadow. Now and then she heard footsteps, but whoever walked the streets moved with the same caution she employed. Finally the waterfront lay behind and she strode along a broad avenue where the Seat of Judgment stood behind a high wall. The Seat was no longer a refuge since the gray priests resided there now. Shepas barked warnings. Several times she froze and fought the urge to run and, perhaps draw attention to her flight.

At last, she reached the market near the north gate. Guards in gray uniforms trimmed with waxy yellow marched two by two in front of the gate. Was she trapped? Was there no way out of the city?

She slipped between two stalls and slid beneath a peddler’s wagon. The cold of the rough stone cobbles seeped through her clothes and made her shiver. She leaned against one of the wooden wheels and, despite her discomfort drifted to sleep.

Voices woke her. She peered around the wheel and saw two men.

’Tis the first day of the last lunar of the year. An auspicious day to begin our journey.

Father, watch your tongue. ‘Tis the first day of Dar. If you plan to remain on the road, you must learn the words our new rulers have ordained.

The first man laughed. Peto, my son, you will do well. An old man has trouble remembering new ways. Are we set to leave?

The wagons are loaded. The cart is stocked. Our permits have been bought and signed. All we must do is pay the gate tax.

You go. ‘Tis my last trip as master peddler. Time for an old man to sit by the fire and tell his grandchildren tales of the road.

Then harness the bovies while I’m gone.

Ashiera watched until the younger man left. She crept from her hiding place. Surely one who failed to learn the new ways would help her.

Months, not lunars, the old man muttered. Not allowed to speak about the Mistress. He led a pair of massive brown beasts to the first wagon and fastened them in the traces. Blessed be the Mistress. Years ago her seer predicted a son for Sari and me. A miracle for a woman past her fortieth year.

Peddler, Ashiera whispered.

He turned. His dark brown hair was touched with strands of ebony. A woman in men’s clothes. If the priests find you, they’ll drag you to their pens.

She pushed up the sleeve of her shirt. I’ve been there.

He drew closer. You! A reverent tone crept into his voice. You are the one who said I’d have a son.

Ashiera had no memory of his face among the many seekers at the Seat of Judgment. I pray my prediction brought you joy.

He has. He touched her wrist. Why did they mark you?

She shuddered and pushed the dark memories away. My mind fled under their torture.

He dropped his cloak around her shoulders. Tales are told of the ones who resisted and died, and of one who accepted, but none of you. How can I help?

I must reach the Shanara Mountains by lunar’s end. Is there a way out of the city?

’Tis a far way to travel. He nodded. Small steps must come first. He harnessed the bovies, then opened the door of a brightly painted wagon. Years ago, my spouse traveled with me. Our son was born in this bed. He lifted the mattress and a wooden frame. For storage. A small space, but once we’re past the gates, I’ll let you out, though you must stay in the wagon. We travel with some who fawn on the priests.

Ashiera traced the sign of the Mistress in the air and took hope from the golden glow. Blessed be. Have you water? I would drink before I hide.

He filled a cup. I’m Penro.

Thanks be. She savored the water and drank a second cup before climbing into the cubby.

When Penro replaced the frame and mattress, she fought the urge to scream. Memories of her imprisonment by the Cabal filled her thoughts. Before the snake had marked her, she’d been kept in a small dark pit for days. The stale air, the cramped position and the absence of light in this hiding place seemed the same.

The cart moved, then stopped for what seemed like hours. Her nails bit into her palms and her heart thudded. If they found her, what would she do? Finally, the cart rolled forward. The gentle rocking movements lulled her to sleep.

When she woke, the cubby was hot and the air flat. Sweat made her clothes cling to her body. She gulped deep breaths until her head spun. Frantically she pushed against the wooden frame. Tears rolled down her face. Then a rush of cool air reached her.

’Tis night. Penro helped her from the small space. You slept through the day. Couldn’t wake you when we stopped at midday. There’s food and drink on the table and some coins I’ve collected from those who won’t betray you. I’ve the names of several inns on your way where the Mistress is honored in secret. My friend, Thamis, has clothes for you.

Ashiera stretched her aching body. Are there many who oppose the priests?

He shrugged. In every village and hamlet there are those who keep Her in their hearts, but there are no leaders. The warriors from the Hall of Defense were defeated. Her servants in the nomes across the mountains have refused to join the battle. The taxes for women tear families apart. Few have coins to pay so their daughters can escape the pens.

Ashiera sat at the table. Taxes for women? She dipped a spoon in the bowl of stew. Though she wanted to gulp, she ate slowly.

He nodded. Each man of Keltoi can have but one woman of child-bearing age in his house. For all others he must pay a tax.

Abomination.

Indeed ‘tis that. He filled a mug with hot, spiced tea. Where once daughters were a blessing, they’re now a curse. Rumors of hidden places in the forest and hills spread among the people, but what parent would send a child into the wilderness?

Ashiera considered his words. Always more women than men were born, but there had been places among the servants of the Mistress for those who chose not to take a spouse. She shook her head. Their ways are evil.

He nodded. Finish your meal. I’ll return soon with Thamis. He slipped from the wagon.

Ashiera felt sadness enshroud her. What happened to those girls who were taken by the priests and put in the pens? A flash of memory shook her. The girls had been auctioned for nights of service with any number of men. Some were sent to serve the priests in their houses. She shuddered. Mistress, why has this evil come upon us? How did we fail You?

When Penro returned, a short man with dark brown hair followed her. He dropped a bundle on the bed. "Thamis, she is the one,’ Penro said.

Blessed be. The symbol Ashiera sketched glowed.

Thanks for your blessing. Thamis bowed. Penro said you were more my size than his. I’m honored to serve someone who belongs to the Mistress.

She opened the bundle. My thanks to you.

Two of my daughters served in a House of Healing. My youngest son died defending them.

The priests carried the war even to the healers?

Even there, Penro said. They slaughtered the sick. ‘Tis said they gain power from pain and death.

Anger made Ashiera tremble, but now wasn’t the time for action. Quickly she changed into Thamis’ clothes. She embraced Penro. Your house will prosper.

He bowed. If you have a need, I will come.

Listen to the winds for a call.

She followed Thamis outside. Keeping to the shadows, she walked with him to the yard where stolid bovies mingled with fleet