In horrified awe he watched the Under Flow pouring from the sky into Baelthrom rampaging at the top of the tower. A great fissure snaked through the ancient structure all the way to the ground, rending in two the tower that had stood strong for thousands of years. It shuddered and crumbled brick by brick, the masonry tumbling faster and faster in a deafening roar.
Baelthrom lifted into the air and hovered on demon wings. Holding his old staff in one hand, the Immortal Lord pointed at Freydel. Cold black liquid-like fog seeped up from the earth and smothered him.
In the blackness of the Under Flow, the Knights of Maphrax approached. All power had gone from Yisufalni, leaving her to her inevitable demise. In a way, she’d always known her end would be in darkness. Millennia spent alone, trapped within the Ethereal Planes and cursed to watch the fall of millions from afar, had taught her to accept torment and death, and helplessness.
She could not run—where would she run too?
Yisufalni breathed deeply, trying to control the terror in her heart as each knight surrounded her. There was no violence, just acceptance. Black smoke billowed from the beasts, eight pairs of smoking eye sockets trapping her in their gaze and feeding off her living light.
In unison, the knights lifted a hand and shimmering chains fell about her, biting like broken glass into her skin. Cold seeped through her body and into her heart and bones.
They lifted her from the ground and between them dragged her away. Their mounts galloped on darkness as they descended into lower dimensions unknown to her. She dangled and jolted in their chains, each jerk a searing pain as the chains bit deep into her flesh.
‘Maphrax,’ the horsemen whispered.
She closed her eyes and focused on the one thing she loved most of all.
Murlonius. Goodbye, my love.
13
Orb of Fire
Haelgon staggered to his knees, one hand clutching his staff, the other the collar of his robes.
Luren swayed and grabbed the table for balance. Asaph looked from one wizard to the other then rushed to help Haelgon up. All the officers ceased their discussions abruptly. The wizard’s blue eyes turned luminous as he looked into the Flow. Velonorian hurried over, abandoning his conversation with the new Elven commander Asaph had yet to meet.
‘Haelgon, what is it?’ asked Asaph.
Without looking at him, the High Wizard reached a hand out and gripped his shoulder, eyes wide in horror as he stared at something the Dragon Lord could not see. ‘The Wizards’ Circle, it has fallen. I feel…weak. Baelthrom…’
Asaph’s mind raced, his thoughts ending with Issa.
‘It’s fallen, Prince Asaph. Our power is…diminished.’
‘How? How has it fallen?’
‘He came. We were tricked. He has Freydel’s staff. I glimpsed three others. Yisufalni, Issa, and…one not of this world!’
Asaph stepped back. ‘I must get to her!’
Haelgon grabbed his arm. ‘Do not! Baelthrom is there.’ He paused and looked to the floor his eyes seeing far away. ‘She’s escaped—where, how, I don’t know. The orbs are gone—safe? I pray. The light is dimming. Our connection to the Circle fades.’
Haelgon blinked and sagged against his staff. ‘It is lost.’
Luren, assisted by a Feylint Halanoi soldier, came to stand beside him, his face drawn and suddenly aged. Words escaped the young wizard.
‘How can I reach her? How can I be sure?’ Asaph pressed.
‘I can scry for her.’ A quiet voice cut through Asaph’s panic. Naksu came to his side. She held her thin white staff lightly, her face serious. Seeing Asaph’s desperation, she said, ‘Follow me.’
Asaph, the wizards, and Velonorian followed the seer out of the tent. Naksu halted abruptly and Asaph nearly ran into her. The seer frowned, her forehead creasing in concentration.
‘What is it?’ asked Asaph.
Naksu didn’t immediately speak, and instead closed her eyes. ‘Something’s not right. Something is…’
Asaph couldn’t feel anything, but the wizards and seer jumped. Their eyes darted in the direction of the hospital tents. Asaph followed their gaze and did a double take. A swirling black cloud hung above a tent.
‘Drumblodd!’ Haelgon gasped and ran towards it.
Asaph followed and quickly overtook the wizard. He had no idea what the wizards had sensed but he was ready to fight it. Pulling his sword free he lunged fearlessly into the healing tent. The air shivered and turned thick and dark. He didn’t know if the others followed, all sound had ceased. He squinted into the darkness then pushed forwards, it was like trying to walk through a wall of cotton wool.
Further in, the blackness cleared, and there lay Drumblodd. His face was greyer than before but his eyes were open wide, all black and shining like onyx’s. Asaph’s heart leapt.
Beyond Drumblodd moved another figure, petit and slender. Her strange clothing and cloak were black, and at times it seemed she melded with the blackness seeping around the room. Her face was alien, beautiful but not of this world—pale white skin and a smooth hairless head. Her eyes matched Drumblodd’s, all-black onyx’s.
She smiled victoriously at Asaph and slowly held up her hands. In one was a black orb just like Freydel’s, and in the other…
‘The Orb of Fire!’ Asaph gasped. He lifted his sword, not sure what to do and wishing he could call the Sun Fire to him. Shouting came from the others behind in the blackness. He was just about to shift into his dragon form when a force smashed into him hurling him from the tent. He hit the ground and rolled, winded.
Spitting out dirt, he looked up. The black cloud had become a swirling vortex. Howling wind gushed around him as the vortex extended into a twisting tornado that reached into the sky, then vanished.
Asaph pushed himself up, picked up his sword and ran back into the tent. The strange black air had gone, and instead a sorry sight greeted him. Naksu was bent over Drumblodd, her hands over his eyes and deep sorrow etched in her face. Haelgon and Luren had hung heads, and Velonorian was inspecting the smoking hole where the vortex had come through. No one spoke.
Naksu closed the dwarf’s eyes and straightened. Asaph sheathed his sword and gave a heavy sigh.
‘He’s gone.’ Naksu’s voice was barely a whisper. ‘Not gone to his rest but to his torment in the Dark Rift.’
‘Did you see it? Did you see her, the one who came?’ Asaph asked, struggling to keep his voice level.
Naksu looked at him then shook her head.
‘I did,’ said Asaph. ‘It’s the one who attacked Issa, the one in league with Baelthrom through this Ayeth I mentioned before. She had an orb, one like Freydel’s, exactly the same.’
‘Impossible,’ said Haelgon, but his eyes lacked conviction.
‘It’s what I saw,’ said Asaph. ‘If she has an orb of power, we’re up against far more than previously thought. Who knows what other powers are coming out of the Dark Rift?’
Everyone was too grieved to say anything, to do anything, and nothing could be done for Drumblodd. Anger seethed through Asaph and he wondered what he could do now. ‘We must scry for Issa and see if she’s all right.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Naksu weakly.
‘I see her,’ said the seer, passing her hand over the bowl of still water collected from Issa’s Spring, as the river flowing merrily through Port Issa had been named.
Naksu raised her eyebrows. ‘She is…flying! I see a pale blue dragon.’
‘Morhork!’ said Asaph, shocked, then pleased, then worried. Would he hurt her? He chewed his lip. ‘Where are they?’
‘I can’t tell. They’re moving too fast, I can’t keep up with them.’ Naksu rubbed her eyes and sat back. She looked exhausted. ‘Why don’t we try again first thing tomorrow? They won’t be flying then.’
Asaph wanted to press for more, but seeing how drained the seer looked, he relented. ‘At least she’s safe.’
Issa regained her senses. They must have slowed for she was able to ma
ke out the rocky features of the ground far below. She still felt woozy and nauseous from the tremendous speed at which Morhork had flown. The sky was pale, indicating the sun had set, and cold wind rushed by making her thankful for the dragon’s warm grip.
She looked down at a rocky flat land dotted here and there with copses of short stubby trees. It soon gave way to wetlands, and large swathes of water and reeds stretched all the way to the horizon. The air was hot and humid, and thick swarms of flies rose and fell in the dusk. White and blue plumed birds with long orange legs and beaks hunted the still waters of the swamp.
‘Where are we?’ Issa raised her voice over the wind and angled her head, trying to get a better look at the dragon.
Morhork took his time answering, his voice quiet. ‘We just passed into Western Ostasia.’
Western Ostasia? Why had they come here? She’d never been to the endless swamplands of the South East, and never wanted to go. She didn’t know if they were enemy-held lands or not but the sky above, though blanketed in clouds, was not red and raging like Venosia or Maphrax. She wanted to ask him why he had come here but sensed the dragon didn’t want to talk.
Instead, she inspected his right paw which he held curled up tight towards his chest as if it hurt him. It certainly looked painful. His scales were blackened and blistered all the way from his scorched claws up to his elbow, and the many red-raw cracks still seeped blood. She wanted to help him, it was the least she could do when he had just saved her life.
They descended towards an unusual round jut of smooth red boulders rising a hundred feet out of the swamp. A strange magenta oasis in an otherwise flat and watery landscape. Morhork circled it and landed before a wide hole where two giant boulders had fallen against each other creating a cave of sorts.
He waddled inside, still holding her in his paw and limping on his blackened one. His chest rumbled as he breathed in and then roared fire into the cave. Issa covered her ears. A bird fled out, squawking in fright, and angry at losing its perfect nesting spot.
Without a word, Morhork set her down towards the entrance, crawled to the back and collapsed. In moments, the dragon was asleep and breathing heavily.
‘Magical exhaustion,’ Issa nodded. Using magic to fly at such speeds was impressive, but it was clearly costly. The exhausted dragon was now terribly vulnerable. Perhaps it wasn’t worth flying without wings, she decided.
She looked around. The cave was empty, and she couldn’t sense anything dangerous. At least the dragon had taken her somewhere safe. She sat down on crossed legs and studied the dragon before her. The jagged red scars where his wings had been made her wince. A dragon who hates humans and yet became one. She felt sorry for him. The world just wouldn’t work the way this dragon wanted it to.
Her eyes travelled back to his burnt paw and she got up. Her own magical reserves were also spent, but she could use a little of it to help him. Carefully she touched his cindered flesh, looking back at his face for any sign of pain or awakening. The dragon slept deeply. Closing her eyes, she let the Flow move through her into his wounds. The seeping blood thickened, and the bloody welts drew together a little. In time, they would heal completely, but she wondered if he would always have a blackened paw.
Realising she ached all over, she settled herself down beside him. Nothing could prevent her from sleeping.
Issa awoke with the dawn as it slowly crept into the cave. Her throat was parched, and her stomach growled almost painfully. She looked up at the enormous ice-blue dragon she lay against. He hadn’t moved an inch, not even a claw, and he still breathed heavily. The welts on his blackened talons weren’t as angry as yesterday.
Beside her, to her relief, nestled Ehka. He blinked open his eyes and ruffled his feathers.
‘There you are, thank the goddess.’ Issa stroked his back.
She got up and went to the entrance. The swamp was vast, the endless pools completely still and mirrored the reeds and scattering of trees perfectly. Dragonflies darted above the water, hungrily devouring the clouds of flies that rose and fell. Toads made a continual croaking cacophony and a kingfisher dove into the water, darting back out with its beak filled with frantic fish.
Harpies also inhabited the swamps of Ostasia, Issa remembered, and Saurians too, if there were any lizard-folk left in the world. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she swallowed against her dry throat. The water of the swamp began to look enticing.
‘Well, if there’s one thing the Orb of Water can do, it can purify water,’ said Issa. Not the Orb of Water anymore, Illendri—something much more.
She scrambled awkwardly down the boulders, having to dangle her legs over the edge and lower herself down in places. At the bottom she paused and checked her surroundings, hand resting lightly on her sword. She could hear only the buzz of flies, the croak of toads, and the squawking birds. A bright green dragonfly the size of her hand landed on a reed in front of her, bending it down under its weight. It flew off as she neared causing the reed to whip back up.
She selected a small pool and peered into the muddy water. Dubious, she lifted Illendri and dipped it into the water. ‘Purify,’ she commanded.
The orb sparkled, turning more blue than purple, and the mud disappeared. Issa laughed and scooped a hand into the crystal-clear water. Tentatively she sipped from her hand.
‘It’s pure, like spring water,’ she said to Ehka. She scooped up some more and slurped it down, and the raven dipped his beak in.
Finally satiated, Issa sat back on her haunches. The water would keep her hunger at bay only for a short time. Unless she wanted to eat frogs or insects, there didn’t seem to be too much to eat here. Maybe there were eels, but the thought made her stomach churn.
She pushed herself up and the Flow suddenly jolted. She turned in time to see an enormous ice-blue streak shoot out of the cave and disappear into the clouds.
‘He woke up,’ she said to Ehka. ‘But where’s he going? Has he left us here to rot?’ Ehka croaked and flew up on to her shoulder.
‘We could follow him as ravens, but he flies too fast. I don’t know how to use magic like that.’ She felt too magically exhausted to even become a raven anyway.
Just as she was pondering what to do, the giant blue streak returned, flying straight into the cave without a pause. Fire burst from the cave, then billowing smoke. What on Maioria was the dragon up to?
Issa ran to the boulders and began the exhausting climb back up. Every now and then heat and fire burst out of the cave. Panting, she staggered into the cave.
The smell of cooking made her stomach rumble, but the sight made her want to vomit. Morhork was busy devouring the charred remains of an enormous crocodile. He took the whole head in his mouth, bit down and twisted it off with a snap. He chewed once and swallowed it whole.
Issa turned away, gagging. Never have dinner with a dragon…
‘I saved you some over there,’ the dragon rumbled over a mouth-full. ‘Weakling humans can only eat cooked, tender meat. It just doesn’t taste as good as when it’s fresh and dripping.’
Issa swallowed, not sure what to say. ‘Uh, I’m not sure lizards are my thing… Is there anything else here in the swamps? Maybe some fruit, or something,’ she barely whispered the last.
‘Ha-ha!’ bellowed Morhork. ‘Dragons aren’t equipped to pick fruit. Eat it or starve. It means nothing to me.’
Issa turned around and forced herself to be grateful. ‘Thank you.’
On hesitant feet, she went to the ledge where Ehka pecked at a mound of charred crocodile meat. It was chewy and not to her liking, but her starving body needed it and she forced it down. She ate to the sound of snapping bones, gulping and gnashing, reminding herself over and over to never share dinner with a dragon. When the crocodile’s tail finally disappeared down Morhork’s throat, she found her own meal a little easier to eat. At least her stomach no longer rumbled, and she felt stronger.
Morhork settled himself down and closed his eyes. Fearful he would go back to sleep
, Issa sat down in front of his snout.
‘Wait, you’ve been sleeping for hours. Why are we here?’
Morhork opened one eye and she sensed irritation. ‘The trouble with humans is they never shut up. After flying at that speed for so long, I need at least a week of uninterrupted sleep to recover.’
‘Thank you,’ said Issa, dropping her gaze and toying with the lace of her boot. ‘For saving me, that is. It must be hard when your…it must be hard without wings.’
‘No. Wings get in the way of the forces I am able to generate and the speed with which I fly.’
Issa considered this and changed the subject. ‘But how did you know we had arrived at the tower? Why were you there?’
Morhork eyed her with a golden eye larger than her head. His pupil narrowed to a slit and his voice became a growl. ‘When the orb betrayed me, my power bled away. I left before it was gone completely, rather than stay and fight a human battle. I went to the Wizards’ Circle and there I waited.’ He hissed the last, opened both eyes and lifted his head close.
Issa refused to let the dragon intimidate her. ‘What were you waiting for?’
He gave a low chuckle. ‘To kill the first wizard who arrived, and take their orb, if they had one.’ His eyes glittered dangerously.
‘So why didn’t you?’ Issa whispered, fear tickling the hair on her neck.
The dragon looked out of the cave. ‘I had no idea an Ancient was there. When I saw her, I felt…differently. The Ancients have helped dragons before. And then you arrived. I planned to stop you but the Flow was gone from me while you combined the orbs. I could not fly, and so I watched. Then he came, bringing the Under Flow.’
Issa jumped to her feet. ‘We must return to the Wizards’ Circle at once. We must find Yisufalni and help them!’
She hadn’t finished speaking when Morhork snapped his head closer, his long neck snaking. ‘Idiot! The Wizards’ Circle is gone, destroyed. Yisufalni is dead. You cannot stand against Baelthrom, you fool. No matter what that goddess has said to you.’
War of the Raven Queen: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 6 Page 14
