Storm Holt (The Prophecies of Zanufey Book 3)

by A. Evermore

  Edarna grinned. ‘Perfect. Gives me some time to collect a few things.’ She glanced back the way they had come to where the corpse of the Dread Dragon lay beyond the broken trees. She began to shuffle off in that direction.

  ‘Great, then you can help me collect foxbane and wild fennel,’ Naksu said. ‘And keep your eyes peeled for a clear running stream, a pool of water would be best.’ Edarna hesitated, licked her lips, and sighed.

  ‘Fine, but afterwards I’ll need to collect a few things for myself,’ she said, but Naksu showed no signs of having heard her.

  Chapter 14

  Not A Moment Too Soon

  ‘MURLONIUS, Murlonius, Murlonius,’ Marakon spoke the boatman’s name aloud three times. His voice seeming loud in the stillness of dawn. He only needed to speak it once but he wanted to be sure, and three was very sure.

  The knights clustered around him, each straining to see what would happen. Marakon was also captivated. The first time he’d met the boatman he’d done nothing other than find him. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  He began to wonder if it had all been a strange dream and that he wouldn’t come. They’d all be stood there expectantly on the beach and he would look like a right idiot. But if it had been a strange dream, then he had been dreaming his whole life. Perhaps he’d left it too late, and now he was stuck here. At least he’d be with Jarlain, but what about his knights? He owed them everything and, by the goddess, he would kill Karhlusus to set them all free.

  The sea had stilled since he’d spoken the name, the water was flat as glass and mirrored the pink-tinged clouds above. Awed murmurs came from his knights as the waves ceased completely. Mist formed on the horizon and billowed towards the shore. In that mist the prow of a boat materialised. He could make out its ornately carved sea serpent head with the swinging lantern held in its clenched teeth.

  Marakon grinned, between calling the boatman and his arrival only moments had passed. The boatman must have been waiting for him. Could he still be too late? Had the hourglass run out of sand already? The boat neared the shore and the bent over old man struggled to standing. With his oar he pushed the boat forwards until it reached the sand. Lan raised an eyebrow at Marakon.

  ‘He’s more than just an old man,’ Marakon reassured.

  ‘I hope so,’ Lan sniffed.

  As soon as the boat touched the sand it changed from a beautiful shining dark wood design to an old creaking thing that looked as if it could barely keep the water out. Marakon stepped forward. The boatman said nothing as he reached a wrinkled old hand into his sack, his face remained hidden in his hood. Carefully he pulled out an hourglass and showed it to Marakon. All that was left at the top was a pinch of pink sand that did not fall. Marakon looked from the hourglass back to the boatman with a frown.

  ‘I had given up hope, King Marakazian,’ the boatman said in a wheezy voice. ‘But once again the goddess reminds me that when all seems lost amazing things can happen. Despite what you might think, time does not move in equal linear chunks - it speeds up or slows down depending on what the soul has to do. The sand stopped falling when you reached your knights. Not a moment too soon. You really surprised me,’ he nodded and laughed.

  ‘What if I had failed?’ Marakon dared to ask the question.

  ‘Then you and your knights would never be free, King Marakazian,’ the boatman replied.

  ‘I was King Marakazian once, a long time ago. But now I am not a king. I am simply Marakon Si Hara, of the Feylint Halanoi,’ he said.

  ‘Indeed you are, Marakon. Time to let go of the past. Now you know what you must do to be free.’

  ‘I must kill Karhlusus, once and for all. Then we can be free,’ Marakon said and clenched his fist.

  ‘Karhlusus resides in the Murk, I have seen him there, but the pathways to the Murk are closed. You yourself closed them,’ the boatman said, leaning on his oar. ‘You will need to open them to reach him. I cannot take you there directly until this is done. But by the time it’s done you won’t need me to give you passage there.’

  ‘I do not remember closing them. Nor do I know how to reopen them,’ Marakon frowned. He looked to his knights, but they only shrugged with blank faces.

  ‘The Master Wizards of Maioria know of a gateway to the Murk, and only they can tell you, if they will tell you,’ the boatman said.

  Marakon inclined his head. ‘I will find out how. Where can you take us now?’

  The boatman raised his hands. ‘Wherever you choose. Across the Sea of Opportunity the destination depends upon those I carry. If you wish you may stay here, though you will not find those wizards or reach the Murk.’

  Marakon considered this for a moment then shook his head. ‘I would stay here, but I want to be free. We want to be free. The chains may have loosened, but they are still there. I will go where I’m needed most, and I must see my boys and my Rasia.’ A gut-wrenching longing to be home overcame him and he choked back the pain.

  ‘So be it, Marakon Si Hara,’ said the boatman. He gestured to them to get in the boat. The knights looked at each other frowning.

  ‘How can we all get in? We’ll have to travel one at a time,’ Marakon said.

  The boatman laughed. ‘Yes, I can see why you would think that. I do not exist upon the physical world as you do, things are different where I reside. Step into the boat and you will see.’

  Still holding his horse’s reins Marakon stepped over the edge and steadied himself in the boat. He pulled his unwilling horse forwards, and it clumsily clambered into the boat. Immediately the boat stretched to accommodate the horse comfortably. Marakon laughed in surprise.

  Next came Oria, equally dubious as she stepped into the boat and pulled her mount with her. Seeing the other horse in the boat made her own horse less reluctant. Again the boat stretched without so much as making a creak. One by one the knights stepped into the boat pulling their horses with them, and each time they did the boat stretched. When they were all in they looked at each other in astonishment and laughed. The boat was now massive and the boatman positively tiny.

  ‘How can you row now?’ Marakon asked, ready to believe the unbelievable.

  The boatman chuckled. ‘It might surprise you to know that a millennia ago I transported a whole army this way. No less than a thousand soldiers. It matters less that I row, and more that I’m here directing the boat according to the wishes of those aboard.’

  ‘You must tell me more of that story,’ Marakon said. He wanted to hear everything about this man’s extraordinary life.

  ‘In good time, Marakon,’ the boatman replied.

  Once they were all in, the old man somehow managed to push them all from the shore with his oar. They moved easily across the flat surface of the ocean, and soon they were engulfed in that gleaming mist. The knights seemed pensive and their horses jittery, but as the boat moved without rocking they began to relax.

  ‘How long will the journey take?’ Hylion asked Marakon.

  Marakon shrugged. ‘Maybe an hour, maybe a day. The last time I travelled this way I fell asleep.’

  The shore was lost from view. When it had gone Marakon took out the stone Jarlain had given him with the bear marked on one side and the sun on the other. He smiled, brought it to his lips and kissed it. He sighed and tucked it back into his pocket. He knew she would be fine without him, but that didn’t stop the pain of leaving her. He yawned and settled back in the boat, noticing that the others were yawning too, even the horses drooped their heads and closed their eyes

  Jarlain opened her eyes as the sky brightened with dawn. She was alone and the emptiness tangible. She touched where Marakon had been laying and stroked the flattened ground. It was cold now. She’d heard him get up, felt him kiss her lightly, heard him leave, but could not bring herself to watch him go. For much of the night she watched him sleep and had only managed a couple of hours herself. She felt exhausted, and for the first time in her life afraid to face the world alone. As if a brief moment with the man she loved re
ndered her incapable on her own.

  She looked out across the sea. The brightening dawn hurt her eyes, it was not a rising sun of love and life this morning. Her wounded leg was sore and stiff and she struggled to stand up. It hurt a lot more today than it had yesterday. Limping, she made her way along the shore line towards what remained of her home.

  She walked around thick ferns and saw him ahead at the shore-edge with his knights. He was taller than most of the knights, his dark hair and beard worn so differently to how her people wore theirs. He was graceful despite his broad muscular stature. She knew now that that grace was part of his elven heritage.

  Her heart leapt at the sight of him and she quickened her pace. She would have called out but he was talking to a very old man in a simple wooden boat. The boatman, she thought. He was bent over and seemed old even though she couldn’t see his face. She went closer to hear what they were saying. All she wanted to do was call out and to rush into his arms. He could take her with him, she would willingly go wherever he went. Just as she was about to call out he spoke of his wife and family. The words died in her throat as her world crumbled. He wants to be with his wife and children, he doesn’t want to be with me.

  Jarlain stopped in her steps and leaned against a tree, her heart falling into the pit of her stomach. He wanted to go and she had to let him. In a daze she watched the knights climb aboard the boat. She was only vaguely surprised when the boat grew in size to accommodate them. Emotionlessly she watched them leave the shore and the mist engulf them. Then the mist dissipated, the boat and Marakon were gone, and the sea returned to its usual lapping at the shore. He was gone, gone as easily as he had come into her world.

  Jarlain stayed there for a long time staring out to sea wondering what now to do with the rest of her empty life.

  Chapter 15

  Hunting Her

  BAELTHROM stood before the great iron ring. He released his clenched fist. The black Orb of Death had been so close to his grasp, but it had slipped away. It was not so much the losing of the orb that angered him, it was his own inability to claim it. He glanced at the wizard’s staff propped against the altar. That wizard was powerful. He would be found via his own staff. Once he was turned into one of them, he would lead his necromancers.

  ‘I must become more powerful. I grow bored with this unending war,’ he rumbled. Kilkarn, the dark dwarf, nodded beside him.

  ‘You will become ever mightier, my lord,’ he grinned.

  ‘We must strike harder and faster. Maioria must fall to me, and that girl must be found. She carries a power that is unlike any wizard’s magic. I need her essence. She must become part of me.’

  ‘When Frayon is surrounded there will be no place for her to run,’ Kilkarn said, creeping closer.

  Baelthrom stared into the swirling grey clouds within the suspended iron ring. Through it he endlessly searched for her, but despite his efforts, and for all the Life Seekers he’d sent she had managed to evade him. He’d come close, but she destroyed his Life Seeker, and the Dragon Lord destroyed his Dromoorai. He’d glimpsed her power then, and he had to have it. Where did she hide? The question burned in his mind. He barely admitted it to himself - that he desired her like nothing other - her power, her life force, it was everything he did not have. It was everything he needed to take this world utterly.

  ‘I will find you myself in the end,’ his words echoed around the chamber. The iron ring pulsed briefly. Baelthrom recognised the energy.

  ‘What is it, Hameka?’ he asked, feeling a slightly irritated. Hameka was more than capable of commanding the war on his own whilst he sought other ways to find this girl. Why his second in command had not captured her yet was a complete frustration to Baelthrom.

  ‘Lord Baelthrom,’ Hameka’s voice intruded upon his thoughts. The man’s thin grey face appeared before him within the iron ring. ‘Our new bases on the Isles of Kammy are doing well. However the place is small and our resources are limited. Draxa had many more resources and our prisons were full there. I hope that Vornus is managing the place wisely. I have requested he send more ships filled with Maphraxies, but that will take time and there’s little space to put them.

  ‘Put simply my lord, our resources here are wearing thin. The attack on Celene filled our prisons for a short time. We need more prisoners to create more elixir, as well as more space to house the new Maphraxies. I think we should attempt a permanent base on Frayon sooner than planned.’

  Baelthrom considered this. Hameka was right, their resources would be stretched thin now they had spread from Drax. It took time to set up a fully functional elixir plant, and a vast number of prisoners to create the first pure batches.

  ‘It’s as we expected,’ Hameka continued. ‘As soon as the Feylint Halanoi are cornered they fight more ferociously. But now we have surrounded the western coast, we can expect a bitter struggle on their part before the end. We need more Maphraxies than we’ve ever had. Especially now with that girl and cursed Dragon Lord inciting the people.’

  ‘Good, Hameka. Then we shall attack Frayon immediately. We have enough ships for a raid and scouting mission. Focus on the closest biggest town. My spies inform me that the Feylint Halanoi are only just learning of our attacks on Celene. Even our taking the Isles of Kammy, remote as they are, has yet to be discovered by the people.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ Hameka inclined his head with a subtle smile. ‘We have enough ships for a swift attack. We must continue to strike them before the Feylint Halanoi have a chance to send an army west. That way we can weaken the western front, and take their resources before they even set up base there. I just feel time is running out, and I’m keen to claim the main continent.’

  ‘If you would only fully imbibe the Elixir of Immortality, Hameka, you would not feel so keenly the pressure of now. We have the time and the power to destroy Frayon, and though I too grow bored of waiting, we must strike with absolute precision.’

  Hameka swallowed. ‘We must not let news of this girl and Dragon Lord spark an uprising. That and this damned blue moon has already caused… ripples.’ He wiped his forehead.

  ‘Come, Hameka, the girl is close. We will find her before she does anymore damage. I will find her myself. Now, there’s another thing of interest. I have seen tribes of people to the West.’

  The iron ring clouded over to reveal an image, the same image Hameka would be seeing in his Shadow Key amulet. A brown skinned woman with thick black curls looked in terror back at him. She backed away shaking her head, and then the image was gone.

  ‘That is all I had at first, a glimpse from a spy coming to me from far away. After, I looked to my Histanatarn spies, they have proved useful if only for this.’

  Another image formed in the iron ring, this time they saw through the eyes of a Histanatarn. Nutmeg-scaled and webbed hands hurled a spear into a mass of white-skinned people brandishing blades. The spear embedded itself in a man’s throat and he fell. The people rushed forwards. The image ended when the Histanatarn was cut down with a blade.

  ‘Both these peoples live upon the Uncharted Lands,’ Baelthrom said. He wanted to get his Maphraxies over there as soon as possible. The more lands he controlled, the easier it would be to take control of all Maioria. ‘The Histanatarns are skill-less, and poor fighters against these warrior tribes. It is only their numbers that prove a threat. But these people, though skilled in battle, are no match for the Maphraxies. They are spread out and few in number. As soon as Vornus’ ships reach you we must send a legion there and bring back prisoners. Then we’ll have more than enough resources.’

  Hameka smiled and looked relieved. ‘This is all pleasing news, my lord. I will ready our ships immediately to attack Frayon.’

  Baelthrom nodded and ended the communication. The iron ring turned dark. He breathed deeply and entered the Under Flow. It was sluggish, as if it was being drained by someone or something. It angered him, he should be getting stronger and he wasn’t. He let the Under Flow trickle away, and resum
ed his searching.

  One by one he looked through the amulet of each of his Dromoorai, searching for the girl. Some fought battles whilst others slept. Though they never truly slept, they simply stood still in a dark place, be it cave or dungeon, and were always ready to fight. They were his greatest creation and he wanted more of them. Another Dragon Lord walked the earth, a powerful one at that, but it was a shame there were not more to take. Perhaps this one could be bred from and therein he could create more Dromoorai.

  Hameka sighed, grinned and leaned back in his chair. He always felt drained after talking to Baelthrom, but at least this time his lord was understanding, and the order to attack was good. After seeing the lack of resources on the Isles of Kammy he’d been worried. They would not be able to take Western Frayon with what they had. They needed to double their numbers, and he hated human breeding pens, it took far too long and he didn’t like having so many stinking disease-ridden prisoners to look after.

  Hameka tapped his chin deep in thought. He still needed more capable commanders. Vornus was a self-serving traitor, always would be a traitor, but for now it was in Vornus’ best interests to manage Drax whilst he was away. Him and that priestess bitch Cirosa, both self-serving bastards that could never be trusted. Even after the consumption of the Elixir of Immortality, the woman was mad and bent on revenge. They both needed to be kept on a tight leash. He would have to pick his own commanders himself, especially when more continents came under Maphraxie control.

  He stood up and stretched his back. At least he was off that cursed ship and his feet on solid land. He went over to his desk, and poured a glass of red Davonian wine. A decent crate of the stuff had been found in the storehouses on Little Kammy, much to his delight. Taking a sip he pulled out his map of Western Frayon, and began to look for appropriate towns to attack.