Night Goddess (The Goddess Prophecies Book 1)
Page 38
They came to an open square and went on through a giant doorway into a reception room. As soon as they left the outdoors Asaph’s dragon form retreated of its own will, and so did Faelsun’s, to his surprise. Much to his relief, he found he was clothed in his usual attire of boots, shirt and breaches. He even had his sword at his side.
Faelsun the man was taller than he was. He stood strong and straight, and had broad muscular shoulders, despite his hair being pure white and lines of age on his face. His long hair was tied neatly back at the nape. His beard was the same colour as his hair and separated into two neat points that reached to his chest. He wore mostly brown leather, from his boots to his jerkin, and a white shirt set ablaze with a brilliant red silk scarf tucked around his neck.
From what Asaph had seen in the Recollection, Faelsun’s attire was like that of a rich duke or delinquent prince; over-clean, painfully fashionable, and quietly flamboyant. A long sword hung down from his belt in a soft leather sheath. The way he looked, the whole air about him, was of one untamed, and his power wild. A shimmer of light surrounded him.
‘Are you a Dragon Lord?’ Asaph asked in surprise, somehow he had assumed Faelsun was a pure dragon.
Faelsun smiled, arching one eyebrow questioningly. ‘I am a true dragon. The human form I must create, and so it is more of an illusion than reality. All dragon kin are as equals here, no matter what form they choose to take. Remember, beyond the mortal worlds matter is more pliable, and the spirit can assume many forms.’
Asaph nodded and looked around, feeling as though he knew very little about a great many things, and all of them were enthralling. The reception room was empty except for the many doors lining the thick walls. Braziers lit the room and warmed it at the same time. It seemed everything had shrunk to its correct size for their human form, and he wondered about the nature of illusion and reality.
He followed Faelsun through brightly lit hallways, past winding staircases and many huge doors, until he was certain he would never find his way out, not that he wanted to. He felt a belonging here and he did not want to leave. They came to a great wooden door where Faelsun stopped and turned to him.
‘Only you need enter,’ he said. Asaph looked at the door and back at Faelsun.
‘Be strong, Dragon Lord. Know that you will always find sanctuary in the Dragon Dream,’ Faelsun said with a warm smile, his blue eyes luminous in the dim light.
Asaph nodded, bowed awkwardly and stepped towards the door. It swung open silently. He was not surprised to enter the same octagon-shaped room where he had met Yisufalni, but she was not here this time. The blue flame stood unwavering in the centre and he went towards it. The door swung shut behind him.
He stood alone before the flame and looked into it. His mother’s face formed in the flame, and tears instantly blurred his vision. She smiled at him, hair like fire, eyes filled with love. She was speaking and he bent closer to hear. All at once the blue flame flared brightly and surrounded him. It was cool and healing, like stepping into a sacred spring.
‘My son, you cannot face the White Beast alone,’ her voice echoed around him.
‘Call to the flame ring, reach for Zanufey’s Chosen. She can bring the essence that is the Sword of Binding. Do not be afraid to call for her, your fates are entwined, like night and day. Together you walk a dark path, and it will not be easy, but you will succeed if you stay by her side.
‘This message is my last, my beloved son. I must leave this place to go to the Fire in the Sky. Coming to the Dragon Dream will strengthen your soul, but now you must return,’ her face began to fade.
‘Stay with me,’ he pleaded, but there was only silence. The chamber darkened as the flame shrunk until it was no bigger than an inch, and the only light in the darkness. He shivered in the sudden cold, afraid and alone.
The dragon door shut.
‘No,’ he cried, desperately reaching for the fading blue flame.
Keteth’s laughter echoed, and the White Beast’s prison closed around him. Keteth roared and lunged out of the darkness. Long snaking tentacles struck Asaph, flinging him down onto the stone floor. He fought the tentacles uselessly, they were too numerous and too strong. They weaved around him like snakes and tightened into a crushing embrace that forced the air from his lungs.
‘The heir of Drax hoping to avenge his mother, how touching,’ Keteth said, his rotten breath brushed his cheek. He gasped for breath.
‘Call to her, call to the sword,’ his mother’s voice echoed in his mind. A slimy tentacle found his neck and began to choke him. He focused on an image of the flame ring.
‘Issa! Help me. Here the flame ring,’ he cried from the depths of his being. ‘Bring to me the great Sword of Binding.’
The flame ring burst into life as Issa strolled alone through the lantern-lit gardens after dinner. It flared into orange and grew so hot it burned. A vision came from it; unexpected, unwanted, and forceful.
She glimpsed Asaph and Keteth embraced in a deathly struggle and cried out. She staggered to her knees, her nose trickled blood from the pressure in her head, and she struggled to get air into her lungs. Wasn’t he safe on Frayon? Why did he need her so desperately? How could she help him from here?
‘Asaph,’ she cried.
The flame ring dimmed blue in response, and as it did so darkness surrounded her as if the ring commanded it. In the darkness, she saw Keteth and Asaph. His body went limp as Keteth’s tentacles crushed the life from him. She ran towards them but hit a force field like an invisible shield of glass. She pressed herself against it and screamed.
‘Asaph, fight. You must fight!’ She slammed her fists against the shield, but it would not break.
‘Come to me, Issa,’ a voice slithered around her, making her heart shiver.
The ring turned to ice. She fell back from the invisible shield as cold crept through her.
‘Asaph!’ she screamed. ‘Please, Zanufey. Asaph needs me. Please, guide me,’ she prayed.
She remembered the sacred mound, and focused all of her attention upon it, willing as hard as she could that she was there right now. If she could reach the sacred mound, perhaps she could reach Asaph too, just like scrying could.
The black entrance to the sacred mound appeared. The flame ring burned hot again on her finger. She touched it to the mirror door, and ripples fanned out in perfect circles. A dark image appeared in the mirror, and she stared back at her double, the warrior woman with her face, dressed in Dread Dragon armour and a raven feathered crown.
‘Who are you,’ her image said. It wasn’t a question, but a challenge. She pondered on it in confusion, taken off-guard.
‘I am… me. I am Issa,’ she faltered, doubtful. Her words sounding hollow in the silence.
‘Do you really know who you are?’ her reflection said.
She began to sweat. Who am I really?
‘His tricks are many and powerful. Always you must know who you are. You are the now, the will at the moment that can shape the future,’ her reflection said.
She shook her head trying to understand. ‘Asaph, he’s in terrible danger,’ she stammered, she had no time for riddles.
‘Who are you Issa,’ her image repeated louder. Asaph’s screams echoed around her and she wrung her hands feeling angry and desperate.
‘I’m here. I’m me… Who cares who I am? I am you,’ she shouted and reached out as if to grab hold of her image. She fell into the darkness.
‘Issa!’ Asaph’s scream cut through the dark.
The flame ring on her finger flared orange and blue fire. In the darkness, a flashing object spun towards her as if it fell upwards whilst she fell downwards. It was the sword with the red pommel she had held amongst the guardians. She reached to catch the hilt as it spun past. Burning pain seared up her arms when her hands caught it, and she screamed out in pain. Every cell in her body was on fire, but she refused to drop the sword.
‘Asaph,’ she cried out. The sword was taking her to him, it seemed despera
te to reach him.
Solid ground abruptly materialised beneath her feet, and she staggered for balance. Before her, the horrible sight of Asaph entwined in Keteth’s crushing embrace almost made her forget the pain of the sword. Forcing her eyes to look only upon Asaph’s deathly face, she stepped forwards.
‘Issa?’ he sputtered. A white tentacle tightened around his throat.
‘Take the sword, Asaph,’ she gasped through the burning pain. She thrust it to him.
As soon as his fingers touched it, the fire surged out of her and burst into him, filling him with life and strength. The pain went and instead cold fury filled her. Blue flames flickered on her hands, and in her mind’s eye, she saw the awesome blue moon. It’s power flooded into her in waves of indigo light. She raised her hands and let its power flow through and out of her.
Everything was engulfed in blue fire.
The flames did not hurt Asaph, but Keteth screamed and writhed. His tentacles loosened, but only enough for him to break an arm free. With a great cry, Asaph drove the sword deep into Keteth. The pommel flared into a blood red light.
Keteth shuddered and writhed, and his howls shook the ground. He turned to flee, heaving his white mass away from the source of pain, his tentacles rolling and flopping and clumsily dragging him back into the darkness. The slithering howling dropped into silence, and Asaph slumped back on the stone floor.
‘Issa? Is it really you?’ he struggled to get his breath as he blinked up at her.
‘Yes, Asaph,’ she dropped down beside him and held a cool hand against his cheek. ‘Your spirit is free from Keteth’s prison, but he can only be defeated in the incarnate world. Come to Celene, Asaph,’ she said, and bent to kiss him on the forehead. The ring flared as her lips brushed his skin, then he was gone and she fell forwards onto something hard.
Gasping, she opened her eyes to the sound of running feet. In seconds Maeve was at her side with Ely hot on her heels. The two older women helped her sit up on the paving stones where she had fallen.
‘Are you all right, Missy? Did you fall?’ Maeve asked, full of concern.
‘There was a flash of light,’ Ely explained, breathlessly. ‘It looked as if you had gone momentarily, but then you reappeared on the ground.’
‘I’m all right,’ she mumbled, though her body trembled. ‘Asaph. I think he’s in terrible danger.’
‘Who is? Who is in danger, child?’ Maeve asked, giving her tissues to stem the blood flowing from her nose. The maid dabbed a cloth to the growing bruise on her cheek where she had hit the path.
‘Asaph, the one who saved me in the Shadowlands. This ring links us, somehow,’ she showed them the flame ring that was now just a plain silver ring.
‘Come, Issa, you had a fall,’ Ely said, taking her arm. ‘Try not to worry about your friends now. Tomorrow is a… long day, so you need to rest and save your strength.’
She let the women help her to her bedroom and to bed. But when they had gone she lay awake for a long time, shaken to the core by what had happened.
Asaph was in terrible danger, but what could she do? He had freed her from her prison, only to be killed by that which had imprisoned her. She shuddered at the memory of Keteth crushing the life from him. How could she possibly face that monster and not die of fear herself?
Freydel’s tutoring had been intense, and she picked up what he taught her swiftly, but deep down she knew it was not enough. They were simple magics, mind wardings and protections, not enough to destroy something that had existed for millennia. She would never be ready, and her magic would never be strong enough.
How could Zanufey think she could destroy him? If indeed it was Zanufey who set this task before her. Surely she would be better prepared, or at least a proper wizard or warrior.
Her thoughts turned to Karshur’s dagger. She shivered. Perhaps, then, it would not be her magic that would destroy him. She would have to face him physically, but how would she ever get close enough to kill him with it? He would come for her, all she had to do was go into the ocean.
Fear and doubt raked her mind, alongside worry for Asaph. Tomorrow she would surely die.
Chapter 38
Dark Moon Rising
THROUGHOUT the following day Issa felt the power of the dark moon growing. With her mind filled with thoughts of Keteth, she sought solitude, of sorts, spending time only with Duskar. She cleaned and brushed his coat until it gleamed, but he was subdued, hung his head, eyes not wanting to meet hers.
‘It will be all right, Duskar, you’ll see.’
But she wasn’t at all sure it would be. She’d sworn an oath, made a promise, stepped too far along the path to turn back. She tried not to think of the things that would happen if she failed.
Every now and then she saw Asaph in her mind, his face contorted in terror as he fought Keteth. She felt sick to the pit of her stomach. Curse the Dromoorai and curse Keteth. If it wasn’t for them, they would never have been in this mess, neither of them would. Her bitter thoughts made her angry.
She stopped brushing Duskar with a sigh, and leant her head against his shoulder, forcing her mind to stop its pointless incessant thoughts. He bent his head down and nibbled her thigh. Where was her warrior twin, the one with the sword and the raven crown? Was she really supposed to be her? Was that who they all thought she was?
I am a lie. Only my pride has gotten me here. She was so lost in miserable thoughts that she did not notice Freydel’s approach.
‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said when she jumped. There was worry in his eyes. ‘I know you don’t want to take any advice on this, especially since Cirosa said it must all be done alone, but I came to offer you strength, for what it’s worth. Whatever happens tonight, happens because it must be so. We have full belief in you. From my tower, where I am strongest, I will use the orb and all of my powers to assist you.
‘Cirosa is here,’ he added after a moment.
She grimaced. The last person she wanted to see on Maioria right now was that awful woman. With a defeated sigh she followed him out of the stables, giving Duskar one last pat.
It was late in the afternoon and all was still, even the birds did not sing their usual evening songs, but instead sat silently on their perches. Issa, Freydel, Lady Eleny, Cirosa and two priestess attendants stood by the river at the edge of the castle grounds. The sun was sinking, turning everything into a golden colour.
She felt the weight of expectation lying heavily on her shoulders. It was hard to carry, but she refused to show her fear to the High Priestess who stood unsmiling before her. At least her pride gave her some resolve, some strength.
‘Are you ready, child?’ Cirosa asked.
‘Yes,’ she replied tightly, refusing to call her High Priestess. She smiled openly at Cirosa’s irritated sigh.
‘We have done everything we can in the time given, and can do nothing now but pray to the goddess,’ Freydel said.
‘Then there is nothing more for our Order to do, except give you your provisional robes as a novice priestess of our ranks,’ Cirosa said.
She took the well-worn and faded pale grey robes with a scowl, but rather than protest and argue, she slipped them over her head. The sash around the waist was also grey, the mark of the lowest rank, but Cirosa’s expression told her that even this rank she did not deserve.
‘We leave you now to do what you have been called to do. The goddess will no doubt guide you. Don’t fail her,’ Cirosa said.
Lady Eleny hugged her close. ‘I will come with you if you let me—’
‘This divine task set by the goddess herself is to be done alone.’ Cirosa snapped. Ely scowled at her.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Issa smiled, keen to reassure her friend even if she didn’t feel it was true. ‘I know in my heart it’s what I have been called to do.’
Freydel squeezed her shoulder. Under the watchful eye of the High Priestess, they all turned away and left her alone under the golden-green leaves of oak and birch trees.
‘Not alone after all,’ she whispered and tears filled her eyes.
Feeling now was as good a time as any, she turned her back on the castle and walked along the path she and Duskar had taken through the forest to the sea. The raven followed, flying from tree to tree.
She stilled her mind and all doubts as she walked, the weight of Karshur swaying against her leg comforted her. She’d managed to keep the dagger a secret, and concealed its presence from everyone.
When she reached the sea, the sun was balancing on the horizon. The long thin clouds looked like ribbons of fire in the setting sun. She watched it sink into the ocean, wondering all the while if the Wykiry would come and take her to Keteth as they had promised. How they would find him she did not know. He would come for her no doubt, he always did.
The dark moon would rise when it was full dark. She could feel it was on its closest orbit around Maioria. She closed her eyes. The power was growing by the moment, she could see it behind her lids, could feel the Flow pulse from it as she felt her own heart beating. The dark moon called to her, and she longed to feel its radiant power flow through her like it had the first time on Edarna’s island.
The final rays of the sun disappeared, and the sky became a smouldering orange. She stood there waiting as everything slowly faded into darkness. There were no moons of Doon and Woetala. All was still, silent and expectant. Somehow she knew only the moon of the Night Goddess would rise tonight. She shivered with nervous excitement and pulled her robes closer.
Karshur was chill and heavy against her leg as if wanting to make its presence known. I will not think, I will only do, she told herself. The silence seemed deafening.