Night Goddess (The Goddess Prophecies Book 1)

by Araya Evermore

  Chapter 18

  The Raven And The Ring

  ASAPH wasn’t sure how long he had been following the raven, time was different here. Actually, time seemed not to exist at all for nothing changed or moved, not even a leaf in a breeze, if there had indeed been a breeze. There was no sun or stars from which to gauge time either. All was static, frozen, lifeless, and everything from the trees to the rocks upon the ground were as shadows, pale and indistinct. The warm light of Feygriene’s sun did not penetrate the Shadowlands, even the Night Goddess herself did not tread here, he thought.

  Aside from him, the only other being here was the raven that flew ahead on silent wings and he followed it on silent feet, sweat soon trickling down his face and soaking his shirt as he struggled to keep pace. Right now he wished he could call his dragon form at will, but he was far from feeling the rage that seemed to make it come, and in this Land of Shadows he had no power.

  They came to the edge of the forest where sodden grey sand dunes took the place of trees and beyond them a sandy cove. He looked to his left where the land rose up to form high jagged cliffs of black rock.

  ‘I know them well,’ he breathed, remembering them in his dreams, the place where she fell from his outstretched hands. Wiping his forehead, he noticed a tremble in his hand.

  He emerged from the trees. The silence and stillness were replaced with ravaging winds as if he had stepped into yet another world. The sea was a frenzy of crashing waves and white surf under black clouds that raced across the sky. Hair lashed his face and his eyes stung with the rain.

  He looked at the ocean as he fought against the wind to wrap his cloak around him. There was something chilling about the sea, the way the foam-covered waves crashed and raked the rocks. It was like a living thing trying to claw its way to him. Earlier he had felt unwelcome in this place, but now he felt active malice. He was not wanted here and his mind screamed at him to leave.

  The raven landed before him, staggering a little in the wind. He caught a flash of silver and saw the ring gleaming in its black beak.

  ‘Hey, thief. That’s my ring,’ he cried and lunged at the bird, but it jumped away. Asaph lunged again then again, getting the distinct feeling that the raven was enjoying it. With a loud sigh, he stood up and brushed the sand from his shirt.

  ‘I refuse to play this ridiculous game again,’ he said, more than a little annoyed. The raven made a short sound like a creaking door and looked up at him, seemingly in disappointment.

  He looked away from the bird, deliberately ignoring it. His eyes fell upon a lonely figure in the distance, and he forgot about the ring. He squinted in disbelief and his heart fluttered. Could it be her? No, he must be dreaming. But as he blinked, the figure became clearer, stood before the crashing waves, dressed only in rags held around her by a thick belt.

  ‘It cannot be,’ he breathed, but his keen dragon sight was not deceiving him. He could just make out her profile, straight delicate nose, and alabaster skin, tall and slender as in his dreams. Her long dark hair hung loosely down her back, and every now and then the wind would pick it up, and toss it wildly about her shoulders. He had accepted the quest to find her, but never had he prepared himself to actually meet her. Now she was here, he did not know what to do.

  Her frail, sorrowful beauty captivated him. Like everything in this Shadow World she appeared ephemeral and ghostlike, her skin was pale and her eyes were hollow. She seemed like a light fading away, consumed by the sorrow of the Shadowlands, and he wanted nothing more than to hold and comfort her.

  ‘Blessed Mother, she has become a wraith,’ he breathed. He looked harder and with his dragon sight could just about make out the soft glow of her aura. It made him wonder, for unlike most it was not pastel and light, but shimmering indigo blue. He relaxed a little for no ghost could have an aura, she was alive.

  He felt as if his whole life had been leading up to this moment, and he feared she would disappear if he moved, nothing more than a dream as she had always been. He chewed his lips racked by indecision. Should he approach her? A strange man accosting her on this deserted stormy shore, she would run in fear. Would she even see him? She didn’t in his dreams, but this was different, he was truly here and this was not a dream.

  What if I fail? What if she will not follow me? He thought. “Silence the questions and the answers will come,” Coronos’ once wise words echoed in his mind, helping to still his racing thoughts.

  He looked down at the raven. It sat calmly watching the girl, uncaring of the howling wind. It too seemed enthralled by her. Sensing Asaph watching it, it turned and looked up at him. A shimmer of silver-blue momentarily flashed around it, taking him by surprise, he did not know ravens had their own magic. He found himself being drawn into its dark eyes. Images formed in his mind, coming to him from the raven.

  In his mind’s eye, he looked up a grass-covered hill to a figure clad in leather armour, a dark silhouette against a starlit night sky. She sat astride a giant black horse that pawed the ground and tossed its head. She wore a crown of black raven feathers and her long hair fell about her shoulders. She held in her hands a long sword with a blood-red pommel.

  He gasped as he looked upon the long sword, ancient memories of that sword stirred in the Recollection. He knew that sword intimately, how it would feel if he held it, its weight and its balance. The sword called to him and he wanted to go to it. He looked up at the pale-faced rider and knew it was her, but changed, different from the frail girl in his dreams. This warrior woman was commanding and fearsome and though he feared her, he still loved her deeply.

  The sun rose. A massive red ball on the horizon, larger and fiercer than any sunrise he could remember, and it set the world on fire. The great sword shone crimson and a raven wheeled low above her. In the distance, a flash of white light reflecting off metal caught his eye and he stared at the opposite hill. Legions of Maphraxies swarmed towards them, their black iron armour clanged like the tolling of the bells of death, and their war drums shook the ground.

  He shuddered with hatred at the sight of the immortals and glanced up at the warrior woman. Her expression was hard and emotionless, and for a moment he feared her more than the advancing Maphraxies.

  The vision ended abruptly and he swayed, breathing heavily as he fought to understand it. Though the vision had lasted only seconds, every rich detail of it was indelibly imprinted in his mind. Of what do the images tell? Is this what might be? A possible future, or the truth of it? He looked back at the lonely frail figure staring out to sea.

  ‘Is that what she will become? She will lead us against them?’ he glanced down at the raven. It cocked its head to look at him, but gave no answer and instead launched into the air and flew towards her.

  ‘No, wait,’ Asaph rasped and fell back into the forest, peering out from behind a tree trunk, too afraid to follow.

  Large black wings fluttered in Issa’s peripheral vision, and the raven landed with a few hops. She frowned, she remembered a raven from long ago, but the memory was so hazy. She shook her head, giving up trying to remember. The raven was starkly outlined in the light, more real than the ground on which he stood. She could clearly see the fine details of his feathers, his gnarly claws, his heavy beak—a beak that held a silver ring.

  The raven tried to caw but it came out a gurgle because of the ring. She would have laughed were it not for the weariness in her heart. The raven dropped the ring, snapped his beak and stretched his muscles as if he had been carrying it for a long time. He shook and ruffled his feathers before laying them sleek and flat again. When she made no move but stood there staring at the ring, the raven took a step towards her and looked up as if in expectation.

  Spots of rain began to fall and shards of lightning lit up the sky. In the glare, the ring flashed orange like fire. She reached down to pick up the ring. It was shaped into a small flame, like that of a lit candle. The rain fell harder until it was a torrent of stinging needles, but she ignored it and continued to exami
ne the ring. The fog in her mind was beginning to clear.

  She looked at the raven. ‘All is changing,’ she whispered. He ruffled his feathers. ‘I was someone… once, before the sorrow. If I take the ring all will change?’ The raven gave a guttural croak of agreement.

  She slipped the ring onto her finger. A terrible wailing sound came from the ocean. The beast’s luring power slipped and the foggy madness in her mind cleared a little more. The raven cawed loudly as if urging her on. The ground shuddered beneath them, and the raven jumped into the air as she staggered for balance.

  There was an enchantment upon the ring, she could feel it. Her eyes locked onto an image forming on the blazing surface of the ring. The ring had somehow come to life.

  ‘A tiny dragon,’ she breathed, entranced by its majestic golden head, long tail, and powerful wings stretching high above it. She gasped as it moved and turned to stare back at her with eyes that shone like huge glowing sapphires.

  Asaph held his breath as she picked up the ring. A memory from the Recollection flashed in his mind. There were many dragons and Dragon Lords circling the skies and below them stood two people facing each other - his mother and father in some ceremony. His father took his mother’s hand and kissed it, then placed upon her finger the flame ring.

  The Recollection snapped shut and the memory went. Instead, a great white mass crested the ocean surface. His breath caught in his throat as a hundred voices, all singing and chattering, filled his ears and his thoughts scattered. He closed his eyes against the madness, trying to shield against the corrupt, twisted power that assaulted him.

  I know you. His thoughts were screams in his mind. You are the one in my dreams, the one Coronos told me of, the one Yisufalni warned me about. The Ancient’s words rang out clearly, “Find the Raven Queen, Asaph… Keteth draws close, you must reach her before he does.”

  Why did Keteth want her? Was he driven by Baelthrom or his own twisted evil? It didn’t matter, it only mattered that he reached her first, but the White Beast’s hold upon her was strong. He should have come sooner, should have left the Kuapoh immediately. His eyes caught tall wispy shapes, like clumps of mist moving in the trees. Wraiths. He felt the blood drain from his face. How long would it be before they sensed his living presence?

  He stepped towards her and stopped. His breath caught in his throat as she slipped the ring onto her forefinger. Deafening thunder cracked overhead and lightning tore down from the sky striking the ocean and casting the world ablaze. The ground shook underfoot and black clouds darkened the land.

  He started again towards her, but then she turned and ran with the raven at her side. This was his chance, this was where the dream always began.

  He tried to follow, but his legs would not budge, they were rooted to the spot, gripped by some unseen force. He looked down, but the binding was of magic and he could not see it. He strained to move his legs again, using his arms to try to force them forwards, but it was useless. He glanced back at the sea where Keteth raged, his white bulk cresting the waves.

  ‘You shall not have her,’ he screamed into the wind, but the only answer was a rattling thunder and within it, a low laughter rolled. ‘You have no hold over her, or me,’ he snarled.

  With all his strength he fought against whatever gripped his legs, and slowly, so painfully slowly, he broke free and staggered forwards. He glared at the sea, daring Keteth to face him, his hand ready at his sword for what little it might do, but the sea was now empty and the White Beast was on the move. Keteth may be limited to the seas, but whatever else hunted her was not. Asaph turned from the ocean and tore after her.

  Without the raven to guide him he was soon lost in the growing darkness, despite his dragon sight. The ghostly trees loomed above him and he felt keen malice in their stance, in their twisted branches - they knew a living thing was amongst them where only the dead should be.

  Cold sweat made his back, face and hands clammy. Twice he drew his sword and whirled around as some unseen thing brushed past his shoulder, but both times there was nothing there. Every way he turned looked the same, and he could not find the path she had taken. He heard a caw and wings flapped overhead. He sighed in relief. For the first time, he was actually glad to see the irksome bird.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ he said sourly. The bird, barely a silhouette, cocked its head and looked at him with nothing but innocence in its eyes. Asaph’s shoulders slumped.

  ‘Please, let us leave this place before insanity or worse claims me.’

  The raven dutifully took off and he followed it closely, his eyes never leaving the bird.

  They moved swiftly through the forest. Every now and then a white figure moved and turned to follow. Each time he glimpsed a wraith his heart lurched, but he did not stop. As they ran deeper into the forest the darkness grew, crowding around him like a thick black fog, trying to drown him into oblivion, sucking away the light as it sucked away any reason to live.

  Already he was having trouble remembering how he got here and where he had come from. Coronos’ face was but a blur in his mind, and all about him, he could feel the dark meaninglessness of existence creeping closer. He swallowed and forced out a breath as he fought against the crushing hopelessness that was the essence of this place, but it was like trying to drag oneself up from the abyss. What did he expect in the Shadowlands? He had to get away from here before it consumed him.

  They burst out of the trees and into sheets of rain. She was up ahead, her white legs long and luminous in the flashes of lightning. He caught up with her, his hand moved in slow motion as he reached forwards and grasped her pale arm. It was a shock to his body to find solid flesh, for his hand did not pass through her as he had feared, she was not a ghost and this was not a dream. He gripped and pulled her towards him. Thunder cracked above them, and in the distance, Keteth roared.

  ‘You cannot run forever,’ he cried, and whirled her around to face him. Her eyes were wide with terror and she struggled in his grasp. With his dragon senses, he could smell her fear and felt it as his own.

  ‘Who are you? Help me,’ she gasped, and stopped struggling.

  ‘I can help you, but come with me,’ he said softly. A lifetime of longing threatened to overwhelm him and he almost bent to kiss her.

  ‘Who are you?’ she gasped. ‘Are you the one that hunts me?’

  ‘I am Asaph, and I have never hunted you. Look into your heart, you know it is true,’ he whispered, pulling her closer. She did not resist. For a moment there was calm, but she pulled back to look at him, the emptiness of the Shadowlands pressing upon them.

  ‘There is nothing here, but desolation,’ she shook her head and he felt the despair closing in again.

  ‘All my life you have walked my dreams. A thousand times I have watched you stare out to sea laying bare your soul, grieving for those lost. A thousand terrible times I have watched you fall to your doom, and try as I might I could never reach you in time. I have felt your pain as if it were my own. I too have lost those most precious to me. I know your anger, your grief, your helplessness.’ His voice trembled for all the years he had wanted to say those words.

  ‘How can you know such things?’ She frowned, shook her head, and he felt her weaken in his grasp. She looked up at him. Her eyes were the colour of a turquoise sea. They filled with tears and he felt as if he would drown in them.

  ‘I’m trapped here. There is no way out. I cannot fight the White Beast and that other thing…’ she trailed off in a whisper as if afraid to speak of it. ‘I can feel it in the distance beyond the sea, beyond the forest, moving closer, a terrible… power that never sleeps… always hunting, always searching.’ The raven cawed impatiently.

  ‘How do you know all of this about me? How have you found me?’ she said pulling away, distrust clouding her eyes.

  Asaph took her hand and lifted it up. ‘The ring…’ he said.

  Lightning flashed and in the light the dragon formed again on its surface. She glanced up as if seeing
him for the first time, and he felt the dragon stir within. Her eyes widen and she trembled. He looked away as shocked as she. Somehow she had seen the dragon awaken in his eyes, and he hated himself for causing her to fear him.

  ‘You do know me,’ he whispered.

  ‘The raven dropped it…’ she said by way of reply.

  ‘The raven took it from me and brought it here to you so that I might find you,’ Asaph said, his voice was hoarse. ‘It was my mother’s ring… she died a long time ago. The raven led me here, it is somehow linked to you, it protects you. I have come to help free you from this prison before those that hunt you find you. If you stay here you will fall into oblivion, and so too the rest of us.’ He felt that dark force surge closer as if detecting their location. The ground trembled and they held each other for balance.

  ‘We have to get away from here,’ he rasped against the howling wind.

  The raven cawed again, this time louder. The force would be upon them soon, he could see it, a thick black fog swiftly smothering the forest and ocean.

  ‘Who am I?’ she asked, her voice low and trembling, her eyes darting from him to the black fog and back again. ‘I had a name once, but I cannot remember it.’

  Asaph was spellbound. Yisufalni had told him what her name was. ‘Your name is Issa. The Shadowlands have made you forget who you are, you are drifting in shadows and hunted by oblivion. I cannot help you if you do not wish it. Do you wish to leave this place?’ he asked. She looked down at the raven and frowned.

  ‘There is something I should remember, the stones, the doorway…’ she whispered to herself, he could barely make out the words, ‘…a figure wearing the stars…’

  ‘Come with me away from here and return to the living world. You are needed there more than you can imagine, and more than that… I need you,’ he pleaded.

  In the distance, Keteth wailed and the darkness moved above them. He glanced up and wished he hadn’t. The black clouds swirled and in their centre, a hole was opening into a dark vortex. She closed her eyes, put her hand to her head and swayed. She seemed to be fighting a terrible internal battle and would have fallen had he not been supporting her. His own head throbbed and he felt sick.