Night Goddess (The Goddess Prophecies Book 1)

by Araya Evermore

  Even Coronos made sure they were alone and no one was listening when he spoke of shape-shifting Dragon Lords. All of that only made Asaph more afraid of himself, so he hid the truth of his dragon form and tried to forget about it. He knew he could not hide it forever, and lately, it was becoming harder and harder to stop the dragon within from awakening.

  Dragon form aside, even his foreign origins aside, there were other things that set him apart from the other children, and he knew it was linked to the dragon blood in his veins. He could see well in the dark, smell fear, and sense the feelings of animals. If he unfocused his vision he could see the soft glow that were people’s auras.

  The ability to see auras was quite a gift to the Kuapoh. Gurapoha, the oldest shaman, was excited when Asaph described what the old shaman also saw. Few people could see auras, and none without a shaman’s training.

  Asaph smiled now at the pride he had felt, it made him feel accepted by the tribe, even valued. For though the Kuapoh treated Asaph as one of them they did not look the same. Like Draxians the Kuapoh were tall, but not as heavily built. Their skin was paler compared to a Draxian’s. A Kuapoh’s fine hair was anything from dark brown to pale yellow, but a Draxian’s thick locks were always a shade of reddish blond until it turned white with age. Most Kuapoh cut their hair, but Coronos kept his long and tied back at the nape in the Draxian fashion. Asaph, somewhat confused, kept his somewhere in between at shoulder-length.

  Coronos was always bemused by the Kuapoh’s passive demeanour, he missed the fiery spirit of Draxians and their heated discussions involving a lot of shouting and wild gesticulations. Asaph wondered at those differences and whether he would fit in better with his own people. Would he ever see his real home? He let out a long sigh. At least when he was a dragon he was not burdened with these complex feelings, desires, and emotions.

  It was always rage that made the dragon form come, and luckily he’d managed to get himself somewhere alone before it took over him. It didn’t bear thinking about if others had seen. Now he was a man and had better control of his anger, the dragon didn’t come at all.

  He had become a dragon only a few times, and it had come completely unbidden when rage consumed him, the shift happening in a blur. He couldn’t change at will, had never dared to fly, and only hoped that one day he would meet another Dragon Lord who could teach him. Until then, he strove to keep it a secret. He remembered the first time it happened vividly.

  Asaph was only a boy of eight when he stumbled by chance upon seven goblins taunting and spearing a bear they’d trapped and chained to a rock. The goblins were as tall as he, had dark grey to pale green skin, and long gangly arms and legs. Though skinny, those arms and legs were taut and knotted with sinewy muscle, and their wiry forms made them incredibly agile. They could scale any rock face and even crawl upside down under overhangs.

  Their heads were flat and faces squashed, so it seemed they had a large head compared to their pug face. Wide pointy ears stuck outwards on the sides of their heads, and their large yellow eyes could turn the pupil from a pin prick into all-black orbs ringed in gold; eyes for seeing in the dark cave tunnels where they lived. Needle-sharp teeth gleamed as they howled at the bear, teeth for biting and tearing flesh.

  Their backs were rounded over, but they stood mostly upright on squat legs that jumped rather than walked. Each brandished a visible weapon that they shook at the tormented bear, be it spear or bow or knife.

  All Kuapoh children were taught how to use a weapon to protect themselves from goblins as soon as they could walk, and though Asaph was not a Kuapoh, he was treated and taught as one. He’d learned to hate the goblins for their merciless cruelty to all beings, even each other, and he feared them just a little.

  The fear that had initially frozen him to the ground soon left as he watched them torture the furious bear. They danced just beyond the reach of its powerful paws, each sneaking closer to the bear when its back was turned, then trying to jab it with a spear. They would run back howling when the beast whirled to face them.

  One of the goblins got lucky and sunk his spear tip into the bear’s side. The bear roared, drowning out Asaph’s own howl when he too felt the sharp stab in his side. He pulled up his shirt, but there was no mark there. The pain faded, but not for the bear, and bright red blood trickled down its fur to splatter brightly on the ground.

  The bear panted, its shoulders sagged, and it lumbered wearily. Asaph wondered how long this game had been going on, goblins had remarkable stamina. Another spear struck. Asaph doubled over with a gasp and clutched his belly. When the pain subsided he looked, but again there was no mark. The bear reared with a howl and stood up to a massive height on its hind legs. All the goblins fell back screaming, but the chain held the beast and they crept forward again.

  Each spear or knife that struck the bear also struck Asaph, and soon even the bear’s helpless rage began to seep into his body making him shake. The bear’s indignation and powerless fury were overwhelming emotions, far more complex than any he’d yet to experience in his young life. He and the bear had somehow connected in a way he did not understand. It would be some time later when he learned he shared a similar link with all the great beasts of Maioria, and it was linked to the dragon blood flowing in his veins. The bear’s agonised howling and the goblin’s screeching became a throbbing din in his head.

  ‘Stop,’ a shrill cry exploded from his lips.

  The goblins whirled to face him. Seven pairs of yellow eyes, and one pair of brown, all focused on him. Everything froze in silence. His body trembled under their piercing glare, but inside he boiled with rage. The silence shattered as everything burst into motion. The goblins rushed towards their new toy, eyes alight with glee, mouths grinning rows of fangs. The bear reared and roared, whilst Asaph stood his ground as fear and rage battled for control. His eyes caught the bear’s, and rage won.

  As much as he’d tried, to this day he could not remember exactly how it had happened. In his mind’s eye, a golden sleeping dragon formed. It seemed to slowly open its eye, but it must have happened in flash given how quickly everything unfolded. One brilliant sapphire, slit vertically in half by a black pupil, looked directly at him, an eye almost as big as his body. It raised its massive head to look at him, then he was rushing towards those eyes through no will of his own. There came a great roaring sound, and he felt himself filling upward and outward.

  He blinked as the disorientation receded, and found himself looking down from quite a height at seven trembling goblins. He knew to the core of his being, without ever seeing his reflection, that he was a dragon, that dragon was in his blood and always would be, and now he had become one he had fulfilled the other part of himself.

  He was too furious to wonder at what had happened, and that anger was felt as fire rumbling in his belly. It pressed forwards urgently. He let it rise up his neck and spewed it forth as flames coming out of his mouth and nostrils. The howling goblins scattered, but three were caught in the liquid fire and instantly incinerated. The rest fled screaming in terror, forgetting their weapons and the bear.

  Asaph wanted to follow them, to pick them up in his claws and eat them, but a part of him recoiled in horror at what he’d done. The desire to kill drove him forwards, but the compassion in his heart made him stay. He hesitated in confusion as the goblins disappeared into cracks in the rocks. Unable to deal with the strange emotions within, he turned away from the smoking ashes of the ones he’d slain and looked at the bear who was watching him.

  ‘I will not harm you,’ Asaph spoke in a voice that was deep and booming in the stillness. The voice startled him, and he learned that day that dragons could indeed speak. Smoke trickled from his nostrils. The bear was as still as a statue. He wondered for a heartbeat if it had died, but a furry ear twitched.

  Asaph reached forward a golden claw as thick as the bear’s foreleg. He paused for a moment as the sun emerged from behind a cloud and fell upon his scales. They glimmered and shone like polish
ed gold in the sunlight. He almost chuckled aloud when he felt a touch of a dragon’s desire for shiny yellow metal.

  The bear did not move as he hooked a claw into one of the iron rings around its neck. At his touch it broke easily, and he wondered at the tingling sensation at his claw-tip. He had barely touched the chain, so had a little dragon magic broken it? As the metal clinked and rattled to the floor, the last tendrils of his rage disappeared, and with it went the dragon.

  In a blink he had shrunk into a boy, his powerful muscles gone, his ancient magic gone. He looked at his small hands, somehow more shocked to be back in his human form than when he had become a dragon.

  Another mind touched Asaph’s, and he felt a wave of sincere gratitude come from the bear. After a moment the bear turned and limped away, each step becoming a little stronger as he reached the edge of the trees. With one last look back at him, the bear disappeared into the woods, leaving Asaph very much alone. Fear and awe at what he had been, what he had done, now felt like a great burden on his young shoulders.

  Chapter 7

  Great Sword Of Binding

  ‘ANOTHER nightmare, my son?’ Coronos’ voice drifted down to Asaph, thick and heavy with sleep.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ Asaph replied in Draxian, looking over at the older man and cursing his nightmares on seeing his father’s weary face.

  ‘On the contrary, I was having my own nightmares, and am glad to be awake,’ Coronos said, propping himself up on a pillow. ‘Funnily enough, it was about your mother, again. I wish I could change the past, but I cannot,’ he added, motioning to the ring in Asaph’s hand.

  Asaph gave a half smile and turned back to stare at his mother’s ring. ‘Speak to me of her again. You know I love to hear about her.’

  ‘And I never tire of speaking about her,’ Coronos sighed. ‘Your mother, the great Queen Pheonis of Drax, Queen of the mighty dragon realm of the north.’ Asaph smiled as Coronos indulged in his singsong storytelling voice. ‘And she was more than just a leader loved by her people, for she was a Dragon Lord possessing the ability to become a dragon at will.’

  Asaph could feel Coronos’ searching eyes upon him. He held his breath praying that the dreaded question: “Has the dragon come to you?” would not be asked again, forcing him to lie a thousandth time. Already his skin prickled with the pangs of guilt and embarrassment. He could so easily say yes, that he too was a Dragon Lord like his mother. The truth boiled within him. He sat there staring at his mother’s ring, refusing to look Coronos in the eye, and silently thanking the glowing embers for hiding his reddening face.

  Coronos continued and Asaph let go of his breath, feeling painfully alone with his secret. Eventually he lost himself to Coronos’ words, becoming a young boy again as his father recounted for the hundredth time the story of his mother. Her face drifted before him - a face he found fiercely beautiful with copper-coloured skin, sparkling blue eyes and red hair the colour of the setting sun.

  ‘This rare and powerful gift crops up where Feygriene chooses; amongst the rich and poor, the royal and the peasant, seemingly without any pattern and careless of any bloodline. If no heir to the throne possessed the ability, and it must be said again that few heirs did,’ Asaph met Coronos’ eyes unblinking, ‘then the people would choose another with the gift to reign, for none other than a Dragon Lord could rule Drax and keep the peace between man and dragon. That was how it had always been.

  ‘I was not a Dragon Lord, but I was a Dragon Rider. I was honoured to be the leader of the Dragon Legion, and protectorate of the Queen and King and people of Drax. Your parents were my closest friends, and in time I became an advisor to them. No matter how terrible the fall of Drax was, and what befell your mother and father, you must know the truth and never be afraid of it.’ Coronos looked at Asaph, the low light of the embers cast everything in an orange glow, making the shadows dance around them like imps.

  When Asaph had first learned about the fall of Drax and the death of his parents, he joined the millions in his hatred of Baelthrom and the Maphraxies. It was a terrible hatred that burned within and threatened to consume him. The Immortal Lord had taken all and left him with nothing.

  ‘The beginnings of the Dragon Lords are shrouded in mystery,’ Coronos continued. ‘History tells us that long ago humans and dragons fought each other in ceaseless bloody wars. Legend tells us that our beloved Feygriene took pity on her children, and chose for human and dragon to be bound together, forever ending the bloodshed between them.

  ‘The last battle fought between human and dragon unfolded upon the great mountains called The Grey Lords. It was there that Qurenn the warrior and Slevina the Dragon Queen fought bitterly from sunrise to sunset. As the light of the setting sun cast them in crimson, they mortally wounded each other. They lay there utterly spent, and dying side by side, their life’s blood mingling together as it spilled down the frozen mountain.

  ‘As dragon blood mixed with human, so did all that was in it; their essence, their history, their memories, their passion, their love. All that they were was shared between them, and in their dying state a new understanding was born. Qurenn’s soldiers struggled to reach him, and when they did it was too late. But those valiant men and women were blessed with a new understanding, and from that day the gift was formed. Their children were the first of a new being - all were Dragon Lords, their blood a mix of human and dragon.

  ‘With their lives Qurenn the Courageous and Slevina the Dragon Queen ended the Great Dragon Wars, and saved the lives of thousands, giving birth to the legend. The sword Qurenn slew Slevina with became the symbol of their union. Its new red pommel was forged from Slevina’s blood and it was named the Sword of Binding.’

  The sword flashed clearly in Asaph’s mind straight from the Recollection, blotting out all other thoughts. His heart lurched at the sight of it. The sword was a symbol of his origin, of all the Dragon Lords’ origins, and to the core of his being, he knew that the sword belonged to him.

  ‘Here let me show you.’ Coronos reached under the bed and pulled out a grey velvet pouch that was worn in places. He glanced about himself and slipped out a white crystal orb about the size of a man’s fist. Asaph had seen the Orb of Air many times before and knew it was always hidden about Coronos’ person somewhere, but rarely did his father use it. The hairs on his arm rose, he could feel the potent magic locked within it.

  ‘Where did you actually get the orb?’ Asaph asked. On the rare occasion Coronos used it, like now, Asaph learned something more of its power.

  ‘The Orb of Air was given to the Dragon Lords by the Ancients. Dragons are masters of the element of air, and so it was deemed right and proper that this orb should be given to the Dragon Lords. It has been passed down to those most suitable and guarded closely.

  ‘Look,’ Coronos said, and whispered in ancient Draxian rune-speak.

  The hairs on Asaph’s arm rose and fell in waves as the magic in Coronos’ words swirled around him. He felt the energy flow into the orb. As they watched white clouds moved within it and a gleaming sword formed at its centre. Asaph’s heart began to pound as he looked upon the blood red pommel and the shining blue-grey metal, memory and desire stirring his emotions.

  ‘The great sword is hidden deep within the fortress of Drax, or was. Only myself, and the King and Queen knew where it was and how to find it,’ Coronos said. The sword image dimmed at a motion of Coronos’ hand.

  ‘All Dragon Lords, once discovering their wondrous gift, served the king and queen and underwent rigorous training for many years to master their powerful talents, for if they did not they were unable to control it. Many an untrained Dragon Lord has died young, helpless to prevent harm to themselves or others.’ Asaph caught Coronos’ eye and looked away.

  ‘They are the keepers of Drax, sworn to protect their homeland. But in the end, even the Dragon Lords and our dragon army could not withstand the might of Baelthrom and his Maphraxies. Over millennia Baelthrom’s power had gro
wn unchecked and his reach so vast no one could stand against him anymore. Relentlessly he attacked our great Kingdom of the North, but such was Drax’s might that it would be only through treachery that Baelthrom could cause our downfall.

  ‘But anyway… It was as if you wanted to fight the enemy yourself, so quickly did you come into this world.’ Coronos’ smile was filled with warmth, but Asaph could see his eyes were glistening with a sadness that even time could not seem to heal.

  ‘Tell me what happened, I’m old enough now to hear it. I sometimes think I have memories of it…’ he trailed off.

  Coronos was watching him as if measuring him up to see if he was ready for the truth. He nodded slowly.

  Coronos had been dreading this moment for over two decades, the moment when he would be forced to tell his beloved adopted son the full story of his parent’s demise. He had left it far too late. He wondered whether he had really been sparing Asaph from the truth, or sparing himself from speaking aloud the memories. The wounds had never healed and he knew they wouldn’t, not until Baelthrom and all his Maphraxies were destroyed, and Drax was free.

  He cradled the orb in the crook of his elbow, wondering how to begin as Asaph’s expectant eyes watched him. It seemed so often of late that he relived the past in his quiet moments, the memories stealing up on him when his guard was at its weakest.

  In truth, it was hard not to be reminded of his murdered friends, because as Asaph grew older he looked more and more like his father, King Ixus. He could see the man’s high brow, chiselled nose and chin reflected in Asaph’s own face, the same dimpled cheeks that softened otherwise angular features. The same thick fair hair, though Asaph’s carried more of a reddish tinge, courtesy of his mother.