Night Goddess (The Goddess Prophecies Book 1)

by Araya Evermore

  Asaph also shared his father’s unorthodox inability to suppress sorrow. Often he had seen tears form in the boy’s eyes when upset, as he had seen the King himself turn away on hearing distressing news. When their much-loved hound was mortally wounded in an accident, it was the Queen who’d remained dry-eyed, consoling her husband who wept openly into his hands.

  The glimmer of tears in a Draxian king was more of a wonder to those who saw it than a cause for shame. King Ixus was not weak and had proved himself fearless time and again in battles against the Maphraxies. Indeed, the King’s tears showed he truly cared, and that was well and good. Funny, it was Asaph’s eyes that affected Coronos the most, stirring up those painful memories in an instant, because they were the same as his mother’s eyes, blue and full of fiery passion.

  The warmth of the orb caught his attention and he looked down into its swirling grey and white eddies. Beloved Queen Pheonis, if only you could see your son today. The orb was quick to respond to his thoughts, and her face formed within it. Red curls dark as smouldering embers framed her face, and soft lips curled into a warm smile so real it was as if she lived once more. Tears clouded Coronos’ vision, making it look as though she was surrounded by a glimmering halo.

  ‘She seems so young,’ Asaph breathed, staring into the orb.

  ‘Older than you are today,’ Coronos said. He murmured a word, and the orb turned grey. Asaph’s shoulders slumped. The orb responded to its Keeper’s thoughts and emotions, and he did not want Asaph to see as well as hear his parents demise.

  Coronos drew the blanket higher around him, covering the orb to be sure nothing could be seen. He smiled nervously and frowned, still at a loss as to where to start. He coughed to clear his throat and cast his mind back into the darkness of that terrible time, reliving the nightmare that happened twenty-five years ago.

  ‘Queen Pheonis went into early labour with you when she received the shocking news of the enemies surprise attack upon our great city Draxa. Never before had they managed to get past the Southern Shores, and no one to their last breath would ever believe they would reach the city gates. Baelthrom’s devastating offensive was a shock to us all, we were caught at night, unawares, when the city was sound asleep.’

  ‘Cowards,’ Asaph growled, his eyes glowered in the low light.

  Coronos stroked his beard. ‘Perhaps, and then again, perhaps not. It speaks something of Drax’s might to be attacked thusly, for sure. But I’ve thought upon it time and again, and there is more to this story that has yet to be revealed - and the truth I shall find if it’s the last thing I do.’ Coronos’ chin was set. Asaph sat poised for more.

  ‘The full force of Baelthrom’s horde had been hidden in a thick fog. It was the growing light of dawn that revealed the unholy magic, for the fog was sickly green, and most surely created by his necromantic wizards. To this day I have never solved how such a massive army went undetected by our own magical defences, auric shields and dragon scouts. It just could not have happened so easily unless,’ he paused, ‘unless we were betrayed by someone close to us.

  ‘A part of me thinks that somehow, somewhere, hidden deep within the orb, is the knowledge of the one who betrayed us. But try as I might, I’ve never been able to uncover it, and my knowledge of how to use the orb is weak at best,’ he sighed and slumped his shoulders.

  ‘The labouring Queen Pheonis could not flee,’ Coronos continued. ‘The minutes seemed like hours as I paced the darkened hallways outside her birthing chamber. I had so badly chewed my nails that they were covered in blood,’ he looked down at his hands as if they were still bloody.

  ‘Outside, beyond the castle walls, you could hear the cries and clashes of metal as the battle for Draxa raged. I wished I were there, leading as I’d done in the past, but King Ixus ordered me to stay at the Queen’s side whilst he led the battle, and I could not disobey. I was getting older, and had passed my mantle as Commander of the Dragon Legion over to another some five years before.

  ‘For all my desperate fervent hopes, I knew that the Dragon Legion fought a losing battle against the overwhelming might of the Maphraxies. We were severely outnumbered by at least two to one. Unprepared and outmanoeuvred, so excellently was the betrayal carried out.’ Coronos fell silent, scanning the faces in his memory of all those he knew for a sign, a clue, anything that would let him know who had betrayed them, but there was no clue.

  ‘I can see the enemy so clearly as if I’m there now, the memory never fades… I watched from the window. Their faces… All grotesquely deformed as if their bones did not fit under their dead skin. And their eyes are the worst for they are soulless, filled with madness and a terrible hunger for the life force that they can never have. To look them in the eye instils terror into the hearts of all living things.’ Coronos looked at Asaph who shuddered.

  ‘Once upon a time those beasts had been human or elf or dwarf. But now… Now they are something else. Their souls have gone to oblivion whilst their bodies live on, made immortal through forced consumption of the foul Black Drink. And what it does to Dragon Lords… a most terrible thing.

  ‘When Baelthrom destroyed Drax he saw to it that all Dragon Lords were captured, tortured, and dissolved into abominable half-beings; the Dromoorai and their steed, the Dread Dragon. One soul, one body, split into two beings of equal power… and equal evil. All the Dragon Lords are gone, Asaph. I pray most were killed rather than enslaved, though my heart breaks to say it.’

  ‘I cannot think of a worse fate,’ Asaph grimaced. ‘What is this Black Drink? You mentioned it a long time ago, but I forgot to ask more about it.’

  ‘The elves call it “Sirin Derenax” - it means Oblivion of Souls. Once a living being consumes it, the foul magic captures the soul, and once enslaved it can then be extracted by the slaver, one of Baelthrom’s vile necromancers. In the transformation to immortality, the soulless body is forced to grow quickly, bones become thick and heavy, unnatural muscles bulge causing the body to twist and deform into all manner of lumbering shapes. The mind grows dull and empty, and the body becomes soulless, but immortal.

  ‘Most beings become Maphraxie soldiers, but Dragon Lords become Dromoorai. Wizards become necromancers. Even animals are not exempt, becoming foltoy or death hounds. The goddess only knows what other hideous beings Baelthrom has created.’

  ‘But what happens to the enslaved soul?’ Asaph asked.

  ‘No one truly knows except Baelthrom and his necromancers. It’s thought part of the soul’s life force is instilled into the next Black Drink, and the other part is sent into oblivion. Maybe even into the Dark Rift itself. Either way, the soul is destroyed in the process, its living light is frozen, becomes dead light and then un-light.

  ‘When the soul is taken like this, no image or whisper is ever seen or heard from them again. The elves said they went into utter darkness, into oblivion, into uncreation.’ Both men were silent and Coronos wondered if Asaph too was considering how many beings had met such an awful demise.

  ‘Is there really nothing that can be done? Can nothing stop him?’ Asaph said.

  ‘Always we have tried. I have mentioned before the Fighters of the Free World, collectively called the Feylint Halanoi. But even two and a half decades ago their numbers were dwindling rapidly. Killed or enslaved, and used to swell the ranks of Baelthrom’s army faster than new soldiers could be recruited. In the end, the Feylint Halanoi fight against their lost comrades, now monstrous immortals. The goddess only knows what the state of the Feylint Halanoi is now, if it even exists at all.

  ‘I have felt safe out here. Safe from the vile reaches of the immortals. But deep down I have always known that it was a false safety. Baelthrom will not stop at Drax, or Frayon. He strives to conquer all of Maioria and beyond, for his mind is a cancer that knows no boundaries. He feeds off the living to sustain his unholy form.

  ‘Our lives were saved by coming here, but the time has passed so fast. One day we must return to our homeland, whatever is left of it. Our
souls yearn for it. I remind myself that you are not a boy anymore, but a man, and I understand your need to see your homeland,’ he smiled at Asaph. ‘Now it seems the time to return is coming, though in a way I wish that we could stay.’

  ‘I’ve also felt it time to return to the Old World,’ Asaph said, his eyes wide in excitement. ‘I’ve felt a growing restlessness over the past few months, and now I can hardly bear it. Though I have many friends here, my homeland calls to me. Sometimes I dream of her, my mother.’ Asaph’s voice dropped to barely a whisper and he turned the flame ring over in his palm. ‘But my blood father I never knew. What really happened to him?’

  Coronos sighed and raised an eyebrow. ‘You will have the whole story from me, won’t you? King Ixus, your father, was like me, a Dragon Rider, but without Pheonis beside him as Dragon Lord and Dragon Rider, he was like a knight without a sword. He refused to ride another dragon, for a bond must be forged between them, and instead took a horse to lead the ground army,’ his voice grew tight as a lump rose in his throat.

  ‘I hugged him close. He knew, as did I, that we would not meet again. Then he was gone. I am sure, and it is a small blessing, that he was killed on the battlefield and not enslaved by the Sirin Derenax.’ Coronos forced a smile at Asaph, hoping to reassure, but the younger man’s head was turned and he could not see his face.

  ‘I pray to Feygriene for you, King Ixus,’ Coronos whispered, relaxing a fist he had not known he clenched. ‘An hour or so after he left, you came screaming into the world. Pheonis knew when her husband fell. She said, “Ixus has fallen,” then she held you close. Her expression I will never, ever, forget. Resolute, unyielding, even to the bitter end.

  ‘She said, “it is over,” and I had nodded. I can still hear the Maphraxies as they streamed into the courtyard through the battered gates and crumbling walls. I can see them swarm through the City of Draxa, like a black mass of scuttling beetles. The clash of metal still rings in my head and the screams of dying men and women… It would take time, but the Maphraxies would find us in the hidden chamber eventually.

  ‘She named you “Asaph,” and as you know it means “the rising sun” in the old tongue. “For the perpetual dawn, and the hope that rises with it,” she said, “he will bring light to the darkness that sweeps across our world.” ’ Coronos smiled at Asaph, seeing the young man’s discomfort.

  ‘I wish that she were right,’ Asaph said, ‘I’ve been as useful as a fish out of water.’

  ‘You have only just reached manhood,’ Coronos laughed. ‘You expect too much of yourself. I only tell you what she told me, and your mother was never wrong about anything. But anyway, Drax and its Dragon Queen were lost. She told me her wishes, speaking with strength and passion despite her exhaustion, commanding me to do my honour-bound duty for my Queen. Her tears fell ceaselessly as she passed to me the tiny crying bundle that was you. Funny, I remembered her being that small when I was younger, so long had I stood by her side.

  ‘She also passed to me three enchanted keys and whispered so no other would hear. “The keys to the chamber of the Sword of Binding,” she told me. Only one key would work. The Holder of the Keys would know which one, and no other. The other keys were certain death. I tried to protest, but her will was sacrosanct. I still have the keys, but only the goddess knows how to reach the sword.’ Coronos looked at Asaph, who was again staring into the hearth, and wondered how much more he should say. He decided to keep it brief.

  ‘The rest happened fast. Shouting came from down the hall, and the Queen ordered me to go. I kissed her forehead for the last time and fled into the secret passages that led down to the sea. I left her to her fate in order to do her bidding, to save her only son. Down endless dark passageways, I ran with you in my arms. You were asleep you know, I thanked Feygriene’s blessings for that,’ Coronos laughed, Asaph smiled, unshed tears also in his eyes.

  ‘Down and down I went until the stone walls became wet and the air thick with sea salt. I emerged out into a howling wind and a cove where a boat waited. Not more than thirty people filled it. Out to sea away from the rocks, a merchant ship was anchored waiting for us. Sixty was the total number that finally made it aboard that small ship. Only sixty that I know of escaped the death and destruction wreaked upon Draxa by the Maphraxies. I pray that more got out.’

  Coronos hung his head, remembering his last sight of Drax as they sailed away into the west, into the darkness. The only light came from the fire breathed by doomed dragons and Dragon Lords on the eastern horizon.

  ‘Queen Pheonis had known Drax would fall, but had she known we were betrayed?’ Coronos said, partly to himself. The orb burned against his side. It had shown him the briefest glimpse of her final demise, and he wished he’d never looked. He looked away from the younger man. I will not show him what the orb showed me, that much I will spare him.

  ‘Baelthrom slaughtered her most cruelly. Her death was meant to be a message to the Feylint Halanoi, a warning to all those that dared defy his might - for even the proud Draxians would grovel before him, and their mighty Dragon Lord Queen crushed under his feet.

  ‘Well, all that was many years ago now, how swiftly time flies. You should get some more sleep, my son, dawn is still an hour away,’ Coronos said with finality. He suddenly didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He sunk down into the bed with a yawn, arm wrapped around the orb, wishing he could have ended on a happier note, but he was bone weary.

  ‘I’ll try, though sleep seems far away,’ Asaph said, but lay back down anyway.

  ‘Oh, and if on your journey you come across any greynight, I could do with some for my pipe,’ Coronos said.

  ‘Yes, Father,’ Asaph said with a yawn.

  Chapter 8

  Visitors In The Night

  ISSA tried to move, but a wave of pain flowed through her, scattering her thoughts. There came a thunderous rushing din that then receded and she drifted away on it for a while.

  Eventually, her mind returned a little clearer than before, and thoughts began to form. The noise lessened, everything seemed brighter too. She tried to move again, and the pain came but did not scatter her mind.

  Something sharp was digging into her side. She rolled onto her back and more pain flooded over her. She groaned and opened her eyes. Bright light blinded her. She squinted up at a sky filled with white clouds and the odd patch of blue. The noise that had filled her head was the surf scraping on stones a couple of feet away.

  She remembered jumping. I was falling, the raven… the dragon. Her throat constricted, but she could see no dragon in the sky. Was she dead? But where was the golden light leading her back to the Source of All that the religious texts spoke of? Where were the people robed in clouds?

  I’m not dead. I survived. But what state was her body in? She lifted her arms, pain exploded at the shoulders. Her wrists and fingers were aching and swollen. She tried to move a leg, pain stabbed in her stomach as if she had been punched a hundred times. But she could wiggle her toes and flexing the whole foot was only mildly sore.

  Carefully, she shifted her elbows and propped herself up. Her back complained and a wave of nausea swirled in her stomach, but she fought to keep herself up. When it passed, she opened her eyes. She had been washed onto a black shingled beach of no more than five paces squared. Boulders three times her size bordered it, and behind her, a sheer cliff reached up into the sky.

  She felt her battered body and was relieved to find nothing broken, though her skin was black and blue, and her back ached close to agony. She shivered under her damp clothes that were even more torn and ragged. If only she could go back to her warm home. She swallowed remembering her mother and her friends. Her head fell onto her knees and the tears came. It seemed the weather mimicked her tears and heavy droplets of rain splattered upon her, soaking her through once more.

  Why had she been spared once more to suffer this pain? There was no way off this beach, there was no way out. She would die here alone.

  The rain beg
an to slow until it ceased completely. Sunlight burst through the clouds, but she didn’t notice. Eventually, all the clouds cleared, and warm sunlight fell upon her pebbled beach, bringing warmth to her battered body.

  She raised her head and swallowed, her throat was parched. The pebbles shone in the sunlight, and mist rose as the rainwater began to evaporate. Survival instinct washed away her sorrows as she recognised the fast disappearing drinkable water. To her right was a shallow concave rock steaming with rainwater. With back and stomach aching all the way, she crawled towards it. She sucked the cold fresh water noisily until none was left. A little strength and clear-headedness returned.

  She sat back on her haunches and took in her surroundings. Perhaps it was the trauma, or perhaps it was the loneliness and desperateness of her situation, but for a moment spiritual thoughts flooded her mind in a way that they had never done before. It was as if the Great Goddess had spared her, or perhaps her own spirit was too strong to leave yet.

  The soul and spirit were the business of priests and priestesses, and she never thought much about it, but now it seemed important. Had her mother gone into the light of the goddess? Was her soul safe? She had never thought about a life beyond this one, until now. Why had her life been spared twice? Was it some game of a cruel god to make her suffer? If I am to survive, how will I get off this cursed beach?

  She let out a long sigh and inched herself up. The tide was out, maybe going out further, but soon it would come back in, and from the looks of it there would be little more than a three-foot square beach to stand on. Her eyes came to rest upon thick seaweed clinging to the rocks a foot from the ground. Farmer Ged used to put that on his fields, she thought, recognising the bulbous pods and teal coloured fronds. He’d called it “Mavy’s kelp” and once made a soup out of it for them. Her stomach churned from the memory of the foul taste. Still, it could be eaten raw, and she desperately needed food.