Night Goddess (The Goddess Prophecies Book 1)

by Araya Evermore

  “Get to the mainland…” the being had said. Ma said to get to the mainland too. That is what she would do, or die trying, she frowned. It wasn’t safe to stay, the dragons would return. What if she accidentally used that awful magic? They would come then, for sure. She looked at her hands. No, she wouldn’t do that again, not knowingly anyway.

  She hobbled on stiff legs over to the apples and made a breakfast out of fruits and jam crackers. As she ate she remembered the raven with a pang of sadness. It can’t have survived the Dromoorai. It had lost its life for her. No animal she had ever known had done that. Why did the bird come to her? What did it mean? When she got to the mainland she would find a wise woman to tell her. She bit firmly into the apple. Get to the mainland, all her hopes lay there.

  Issa spent the rest of the morning opening the remaining crates and boxes whilst the sunlight filled the room. As she hefted the axe down upon the wood again, and again made her plans to leave. What provisions to take, how long she might be at sea. She realised it was going to be a very hard endeavour, especially for someone who did not know how to captain a boat.

  Soon she had been through every crate and barrel, and found a thick pair of brown riding trousers, a wide blacksmith’s belt, and the smallest man’s shirt she could find - though it was still baggy and long and she would have to roll the sleeves up. The underlinens were also men’s, but good enough for now. She decided to try and wash before putting them on.

  There was a box full of oiled fishermen’s raincoats that reached past her knees, waders that reached almost to her neck, galoshes big enough to fit both feet in one shoe, and hats with long flaps dangling down to her chest. All nicely reminding her of an arduous and treacherous journey ahead. Still, at least she could keep warm and dry even if she looked ridiculous. Besides, she thought sourly, who would see her anyway?

  Further meticulous searching revealed no women’s clothes except a lined box containing two heavily laced and frilly wedding dresses. Luckily one was too small, and the other big enough to hide a horse. Her eyes travelled over to the opposite section of the building where the ceiling had collapsed and crushed the crates beneath. She sighed forlornly, that must be where the women’s clothes were.

  She left her new clothes just inside the doorway and rolled over a barrel that had survived her axe. Inside she put her food and extra clothing and battered down the lid. What if she needed tools or even a weapon? With that thought, she went back downstairs and collected a spoon, fork and two short paring knives from the box of kitchen items. She imagined brandishing her tiny knife up at a slavering Dread Dragon and swallowed. She picked up the axe and felt better as if the axe could somehow defend her against a dragon bigger than three houses.

  Next, she filled the lantern to brimming and screwed the oil can shut, hoping it would be enough. Now all she needed was water.

  She could not find any water skins, but there was a horse’s saddlebag with a half-filled water canister inside. She wondered to whom it had belonged, but when her eyes fell upon a pile of ash and blackened stirrups to the back of the room, she turned away. Beside the apple crates, she found a large empty metal milk jar, which she could fill with water from the well outside.

  In the shadow of the doorway, she scanned the empty sunlit cobbled streets. Her heart began to thud in her chest. Stepping out from the safety of the storehouse filled her with dread. It wasn’t just fear of Dread Dragons, but also the silent streets devoid of people.

  Taking a deep breath she stepped into the sunlight and stopped, overwhelmed by the feeling of vulnerability. She forced her feet forwards, her eyes locking on to the crumbling well several blocks ahead. Her footsteps on the cobbles echoed through the streets. She swallowed hard against the fear and could not help thinking that her feet would be the last to walk these streets ever again.

  She reached the well, but the wheel used to turn it was crushed and useless, so she had to pull up the bucket chain with her hands. The water that came up was surprisingly clear apart from a few bits of black wood, which she picked out. A tentative taste told her it was pure and hopefully untainted. She thanked the goddess for the small blessing, realising again how little she had thought upon the Source of All, or given thanks for things which she had always taken for granted.

  She splashed the cool water on her face and bared the cold long enough to wash her hair and body as best she could under clothes and without soap. The sea had washed her well but left her sticky and salty. As the salt and dirt washed away it felt as if her mind was being cleansed as well.

  When she was clean enough, she struggled back to the storehouse with the water and set the jar down next to the barrel of her belongings. With a relishing sigh, she peeled off the damp aprons and pulled on her new clothes. They weren’t much, but she immediately felt better in them. All she needed now was a boat.

  For some reason she had assumed there would be a nice little boat complete with a sail and tiny cabin waiting for her, but as she surveyed the wreckage her heart fell. There was not one intact boat floating. She would have to do something she had been dreading. Search boathouses.

  Outside again, she scanned the devastated city that stretched gently upwards from the harbour. Every house was either a crumbled building or a blackened scar or both. Still, she had to try. There were no dragons here anymore, she consoled herself and set off along a street leading away from the harbour.

  Her dread turned out to be unnecessary, and her search fruitless. All the boats appeared to be in the harbour floating as debris or crushed under fallen roofs amongst the piles of black ash.

  As the sun began to sink in the sky, her hope sunk with it and she gave up. It was useless. She rested her forehead upon the cold stone of the harbour wall, clenched her eyes shut, and punched a fist against the rock, scraping the skin raw. She was never going to get off Little Kammy. The thought of leaving scared her, but she dreaded the thought of living out her life in the harbour storehouse.

  She trudged up the steps to stand atop the eastern wall and walked along it out to sea. At its end, she sat down, hugged her knees to her chest and stared at the horizon. The sun was beginning to turn orange in a cloudless sky. It was going to be a fabulous sunset, which was why she turned her back to it.

  The flat profile of Bigger Kammy was clear in the distance, all rolling green hills and white bays. Given only distance, and without a tide or the wind, she could probably swim the channel in a couple of hours, but with the tide she would never make it. With a boat, even a small one, she could row across. With a sail, it would be even easier. Island by island she could hop towards the mainland, replenishing her supplies along the way. It would be a long journey, but who knows, maybe she would meet others; fishermen returning from months at sea or big merchant ships. Anything could happen if only she could just get off Little Kammy.

  Her eyes fell from Bigger Kammy, the land of hope, to the seaweed covered harbour walls. She jumped to her feet with a gasp. Just below the steps that led down to the beach was an overturned boat - whole and unburnt. She ran down the steps and began inspecting it, it couldn’t be sea-worthy could it?

  It took all her strength and several tries, but eventually she righted the boat and gave a cry of triumph. The boat was indeed whole and not splintered. It was small, only big enough to fit in a couple of fishermen with a net of fish, and there was no sail, but then again she could not manage a bigger boat. The oars were gone, but they were in abundance floating in the harbour.

  She smoothed back her hair and grinned, the ocean air was suddenly filled with the scent of freedom. She skipped back towards the storeroom, catching the last glorious red rays as the sun slipped into the ocean. In the fading light, she salvaged oars from the harbour. She would rise at dawn, roll her belongings into the boat, and set off forever.

  The dawn came filled with rain, marring Issa’s mood and dampening her spirits. She stared up at the thick grey clouds, the kind that hung around for days with not even a breeze to blow them away. It
would make for calm seas, though. The thought brightened her mood. One thing was for certain, she was leaving here whatever the weather.

  It took some time to roll her barrel across the harbour, heave it up the steps with rope, and lower it down the other side. Sweat rolled down her back by the time it was in the boat, and a drizzle had started. She pulled on her fisherman’s coat, waders and galoshes. The cold material stuck annoyingly to her damp clothes and body, making her sweat even more under the layers.

  Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable, she heaved the boat across the pebbles and into the water. It was a struggle to hold the boat and get her leg over the side. In the end, she jumped in awkwardly, falling in a heap beside the barrel as the boat rocked violently. She pulled herself onto the seat and got her bearings.

  Wiping sweaty hair back from her face she grabbed the oars, stuck them through the hoops, and began rowing. She quickly realised she didn’t know how to row at all, and it was far more difficult than the fishermen made it look.

  ‘Bloody oars,’ she cursed. They kept slipping in the water, and her barely-recovered shoulders began to complain. After a while, she found a style and rhythm that was slow enough not to tire, though she still had to ignore the aches. She also discovered how difficult it was to row whilst facing backwards, but felt a little heartened when the distance between her and Little Kammy began to increase.

  Half an hour later, Little Kammy seemed far away, but when she looked over her shoulder, Bigger Kammy was just as far. She sighed, it looked so close on land, but in the sea, the distance seemed much further. Still, she had to keep on rowing. Thank the goddess the sea was calm.

  Though the sea was fine the weather wasn’t. The drizzle soon turned into sheets of rain so thick she could no longer see either island except for brief glimpses between the curtains of water.

  ‘The rain won’t last,’ she said between gritted teeth. But it lasted longer than she hoped, filling the boat enough so that she was forced to use the bucket to bail it out.

  Eventually, the rain became a soft drizzle and breaks of lighter clouds brightened the day. She looked over her shoulder, trying to make out where she was. Despite there being little wind, the tide was strong, as it always was between islands flowing ever northwards. She had moved from her intended course - now Bigger Kammy was appearing over her left shoulder, and not behind her.

  She altered her course, and angled back towards Bigger Kammy, but as the rain stopped a northerly wind picked up. It was a mixed blessing, for whilst the clouds began to scatter, she could not row against wind and tide. Despite her struggles, Bigger Kammy kept moving further away as she moved out to sea.

  ‘Argh,’ she slammed the oars into the boat. Gripping the fisherman’s jacket she wrenched it off, and threw it down too. Lashing up the oars she renewed the effort until her heart pounded with exertion and sweat rolled down her face stinging her eyes. Soon her arms were burning and her back cried out for rest.

  ‘Come on,’ she cried, trying to calm the assailing panic. ‘Come on.’ But Bigger Kammy only moved further into the distance. She yanked on the oars, they slipped in the water, and she slammed back into the hull.

  ‘Please,’ she kicked the side of the boat in frustration. Bigger Kammy was now further away than when she had been on Little Kammy. She pulled the oars into the boat and sat there drifting. If she could not beat the tide on a calm day, then there was no beating it.

  She opened the barrel and pulled out a plum. It tasted dry and sour, but she forced it down. Laying her head on her arm she watched Bigger Kammy fade upon the horizon until it was a thin grey sliver of land. Soon that too vanished, and hope with it. She buried her head in her arms.

  The wind blew stronger and faded away, the rain came and went, but she did not move, not even to put on her raincoat, and instead sat in the new pool of water in the bottom of the boat. Not only had she failed to get to Bigger Kammy, she had also lost Little Kammy. She drifted in hopelessness, somewhere between sleeping and daydreaming, for a long time.

  There came a strange sound, the sound of wood scraping on stone. Thinking it was her imagination she ignored it. It came again; a bump followed by a scrape that definitely was not her imagination. She lifted her head. Bump. She sat up and turned around. Her jaw dropped as her eyes fell upon the smooth boulders that the boat was rubbing against. Following the boulders around to the right, there was a tiny sandy cove no bigger than two lengths of her boat, beyond which were tall sea grasses and stubby green trees.

  She thought about the maps at school and remembered trying to count the hundreds of islands dotted all around the Isles of Kammy. Most were tiny, little more than clusters of rocks, and very few of them were inhabited. This must be a Wild Island, as they were called. The raucous cacophony of sea birds settling down to roost told her that this was so.

  She lay back with a smile, the sound of living creatures breathed life into her weary bones. The presence of birds told her that the Dread Dragons had not come here, and that thought alone brought the tears again. The whole world had not been destroyed, and somewhere out there people carried on living normal lives.

  The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and she shivered in the sudden cold. It was getting on towards evening. She would spend the night here, and work out what to do. She grabbed the oars and eased her shoulders into rowing towards the cove. Once there, she jumped out and dragged the boat up onto the shore.

  The sun came out again, big and orange and low on the horizon. She fathomed there was about an hour left until it set completely, and maybe another half before complete darkness. She started to look for a simple shelter that would be better than sleeping in her raincoat. There was no path, but it was fairly easy walking along the shore. The only sound were the waves and the crying gulls circling above trying to get a better look at this strange human visitor.

  In an hour she had walked around the whole island, and came abruptly back to her boat. Suddenly the hairs rose on the nape of her neck. The gulls had ceased their cries and no longer circled the reddening sky. There came an odd noise. It started as a low hum, like the sound of a potter’s spinning wheel, and seemed to come from everywhere at once. The noise swiftly grew to a maddening screech making her clasp her hands over her ears. Her eyes darted from the sea to the sky, half expecting it to be the cry of a Dread Dragon, but there was nothing.

  Instinct drove her towards the trees, and she hid behind the twisted trunk of a pine tree, praying for the screeching to end. It dropped to such a low hum she would have thought it had gone but for the vibrations in her chest. The blood rushed back into her ears as she lowered her hands. The sea was dead calm and still like a mirror, perfectly reflecting the red clouds above. The sound seemed to be coming from the ocean, not the sky. The low hum vibrated in pitch and settled upon a higher note. Intrigued, she stepped slowly towards the ocean. The mesmerising hum grew and fell in pitch as if spurred on by her movements.

  She should go back to the trees where it was safe, she thought and stopped walking. The vibrating hum quivered, and her chest quivered with it. No, she had to find out what was making that noise. Her feet moved of their own accord. The sound was quite soothing, and if she went a little closer to the sea she might see who was making the noise.

  The surf lapped at her galoshes, but this wasn’t far enough. It seemed quite logical, she would have to go further out to see past the rocks. The hum became a dance of music that calmed her tortured soul and told her that beyond the rocks lay her greatest desire, beyond the rocks was freedom. The water lapped up to her waist, but she had to go further.

  She was only dimly aware of the loud splashing coming behind her, as of someone crashing through the waves, and paid it no heed. In the distance, a great white shape moved under the water towards her. Yes, that was freedom, she smiled and went towards it.

  The noisy splashing neared and was followed by a terrible scream. In a daze, she turned to look, but there came a noisy thwack, an explosion of pain on the back of her head,
and a flash of searing indigo blue light.

  I know that light, she thought, it’s the colour of magic. She fell forwards into cold darkness.

  Chapter 11

  Night Goddess

  ISSA moved in a constantly changing world where she could not see anything, yet was completely aware as if her eyes were closed and she could not find her eyelids to open them. It was freezing cold and there was an unfamiliar female voice speaking soothing words that she couldn’t quite make out. The voice floated around her and faded away. She wondered if it was her own consciousness fading in and out, and not the voice. She tried to move out of the dark and open her eyes, but it was very difficult, and only made her sink further.

  When next she came around, her world had changed completely. The cold was replaced by warm, the smell of the sea was gone, and replaced instead by the cinnamon smell of sweetbread cooking. The soothing voice was gone, and the recognisable crackle of a log fire, wood cracking and splintering in a hearth, filled her ears.

  She raised her arm, to her surprise found it responded, and rubbed a sore lump on the back of her head. She opened her eyes, pleased to find that they worked, and her senses had not deceived her. She was wrapped in a thick blanket lying on a faded-cushioned chair before a fire. Her clothes were drying on a rack on the other side of the hearth, all clean and fresh smelling. She lay still trying to piece together how she got here.

  A cat jumped up onto her legs. She blinked in surprise, the cat was sky blue and its face distinctly looked like it was smiling. It, however, stared at her unblinking and purred loudly as it massaged and clawed her knees, creating a bizarre mixture of pleasure followed by pain. Its golden eyes gleamed like orbs, and its tail flicked back and forth playfully.