Dark Moon Rising (The Prophecies of Zanufey)

by A. Evermore

  ‘Where did you actually get the orb?’ Asaph asked, for he rarely saw Coronos utilise it. Usually he just stared at it in quiet contemplation. But on the rare occasion Coronos had used it, like now, Asaph learned something more of its power.

  ‘This is the Orb of Air,’ Coronos said, cradling it in his lap. ‘It was given to the Dragon Lords by the Ancients. At the time they were a young yet powerful race newly created from the allegiance between the mighty Dragons and the bravest warriors in the Great Binding. Dragons are masters of the element of air and so it was deemed right and proper that this orb should be given to the Dragon Lords. It has been passed down through the Kings and Queens of Drax and guarded closely.

  ‘All Dragon Lords, once discovering their wondrous gift, served the King and Queen and underwent rigorous training for many years to master their powerful talents, for if they did not they were unable to control it. Many an untrained Dragon Lord has died young, helpless to prevent harm to themselves or others.’ Asaph caught Coronos’s eye and hastily looked away.

  ‘They are the keepers of Drax, sworn to protect their homeland, the King and Queen, and their people. But in the end even the mighty Dragon Lords and our Dragon army could not withstand the might of Baelthrom the Immortal Lord and his hordes of Maphraxies. Over millennia Baelthrom’s power had grown unchecked and his reach so vast no one could stand against him anymore. Relentlessly he attacked our great Kingdom of the North but such was Drax’s might that it would be only through trickery that Baelthrom could cause our downfall.’

  Asaph shuddered at the mention of the Immortal Lord’s name, he had only glimpsed Baelthrom in The Recollection from a great distance and even that had left him weak and trembling from the tips of his toes to his very soul.

  ‘It was our enemy’s surprise attack that brought on your mother’s early labour,’ Coronos continued, and it seemed as if he would say more but paused, and ended with something else, ‘it was as if you wanted to fight the enemy yourself, so quickly did you come into this world.’ Coronos’s smiled warmly but Asaph could see his eyes were glistening with a sadness that even time could not seem to heal.

  Asaph gripped his mother’s ring tightly, forcing the memories, his mother’s memories, away. Her final moments he could not bear to see and so he always blanked them, knowing it would be too painful. With Coronos’s words, however, he felt those memories threaten to unlock, ready to release a great tidal wave of grief and anger down upon him.

  ‘I sometimes think I can see her…’ Asaph murmured then stopped himself and turned to watch the glowing embers in the hearth, not wanting Coronos to see his pain. If Coronos knew Asaph could see his mother’s memories then Coronos would know he was a Dragon Lord. Asaph wanted to tell him that he did not need to talk about it, but the truth was he wanted to hear more, wanted to know what Coronos had witnessed over two decades ago that had changed their lives forever, and so he found himself urging his father on.

  ‘Tell me what happened, I am old enough now to hear it. I sometimes think I have memories of it,’ he trailed off.

  Coronos was watching him unblinking, as if measuring him up to see if he was ready for the truth; and then he nodded slowly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Queen Pheonis

  Coronos had been dreading this moment for over two decades, the moment when he would be forced to tell Asaph, his beloved adopted son, the full story of his parents demise. He had left it far too late. He wondered whether he had really been sparing Asaph from the truth, or sparing himself from the speaking aloud the memories. The wounds had never healed and he knew they would not, not until Baelthrom and all his Maphraxies were destroyed.

  He cradled the orb closer in the crook of his elbow, wondering how to begin as Asaph’s expectant eyes watched him. It seemed so often of late that he relived the past in those quiet moments during the day, the memories stealing up on him when his guard was at its weakest.

  In truth it was hard not to be reminded of his murdered friends for, as Asaph grew older, he looked more and more like his father, King Ixus. He could see the man’s high brow and chiselled nose and chin reflected in Asaph’s own face, the same dimpled cheeks that softened otherwise angular features; the same thick fair hair, though Asaph’s carried more of a reddish tinge, courtesy of his mother.

  Asaph also shared his father’s unorthodox inability to suppress sorrow. Often he had seen tears form in the boy’s eyes when upset, as he had seen the King himself turn away on hearing any distressing news. When their faithful hound was mortally wounded in an accident, it was the Queen who remained dry-eyed and consoling her husband who wept openly into his hands.

  The glimmer of tears in a Draxian King was more of a wonder to those who saw it than a cause for shame. King Ixus was not weak and had proved himself fearless time and again in battles against the despised Maphraxies. Indeed the King’s tears showed he truly cared and that was well and good.

  Indeed it was always Asaph’s eyes that affected Coronos the most, stirring up those painful memories in an instant. They were the same as his mother’s eyes, brilliant blue and full of fiery passion.

  The warmth of the orb caught his attention and he looked down into its swirling grey and white eddies. Beloved Queen Pheonis, if only you could see your son today, he thought. The orb was quick to respond to his thoughts and her face formed within it; red curls, dark as smouldering embers, framed a smooth bronzed face, soft lips curled into a warm smile so real it was as if she lived once more. Tears clouded Coronos’s vision, making it look as though she was surrounded by a glimmering halo.

  ‘She seems so young,’ Asaph breathed, staring into the orb, glassy-eyed.

  ‘Older than you are today,’ Coronos replied, and then murmured a word of magic; the orb turned grey again. Asaph’s shoulders slumped as if in disappointment. The orb always responded to its Keeper’s thoughts and emotions, especially if felt purely and strongly enough, and he did not want Asaph to see as well as hear his parents demise.

  Coronos drew the blanket higher up around him, covering the orb to be sure nothing could be seen, though he could feel its living heat against his ribs. He smiled nervously and then frowned, still at a loss as to where to start. He coughed to clear his throat and cast his mind back into the darkness of that terrible time, reliving the nightmare that happened twenty-five years ago.

  ‘The great Dragon Lord Queen Pheonis, went into early labour with you when she received the shocking news of the enemies surprise attack upon the city. Never before had they managed to get past the Southern Shores, and no one to their last breath would ever believe they would reach Draxa’s city gates. Baelthrom’s devastating offensive was a terrible shock to us all, we were caught at night, unawares, when the city was sound asleep.’

  ‘Cowards,’ Asaph growled, his eyes glowered in the low light.

  Coronos stroked his beard. ‘Perhaps, and then again, perhaps not. It speaks something of Drax’s might to be attacked thusly for sure. But I have thought upon it time and again and there is more to this story that, even now, has yet to be revealed, and the truth I shall find if it is the last thing I do.’ Coronos’s chin was set. Asaph sat still, poised for more.

  ‘The full force of Baelthrom’s horde had been hidden in a thick fog. It was the growing light of dawn that revealed the unholy magic, for the fog was sickly green and most surely created by his necromantic Wizards. Under that green haze and under the cover of several nights the Maphraxies smashed, almost unhindered, through Drax and to its great city with terrible success.

  ‘To this day I have never solved how such a massive army went undetected by our own magical defences, auric shields, and Dragon scouts long before they arrived. It just could not have happened so easily unless,’ he paused, tugging on his beard, ‘unless we were betrayed by someone very close to us.

  ‘A part of me thinks that somehow, somewhere, hidden deep within this orb,’ he laid a hand upon it, covered as it was by the blanket, ‘is the memory, the knowledge, of t
he one who betrayed us. But try as I might I have never been able to uncover it, and my knowledge of how to use the orb is weak at best,’ he sighed and slumped his shoulders. ‘One day I will know.’

  Asaph bowed his head. Could he find out if he looked into The Recollection? His heart sank at the thought. It would be like trying to read through a thousand books, so little skill did he have traversing it. But he would not forget the idea.

  ‘Queen Pheonis, now in labour, could not flee,’ Coronos continued. ‘The minutes seemed like hours as I paced the darkened hallways outside the birthing chamber where she was struggling to deliver you; I had so badly chewed my nails that they were covered in blood,’ he looked down at his hands as if they were still bloody.

  ‘Outside, beyond the castle walls, you could hear the cries and clashes of metal grinding against metal as the battle for Drax raged. I wished I were there, leading as I had done in the past, but King Ixus ordered me to stay at the Queen’s side whilst he led the battle, and I could not disagree. Besides, I was older and had passed my mantle as the Commander of the Dragon Legion over to another some five years before.

  ‘For all my desperate fervent hopes I knew that the Dragon Legion fought a losing battle against the overwhelming might of the Maphraxies. We were severely outnumbered by at least two to one, unprepared and outmanoeuvred; so excellently was the betrayal carried out.’ Coronos fell silent, scanning the faces in his memory of all those he knew for a sign, a clue, anything that would let him know who had betrayed them. But there was no clue. He shook he head with a sigh.

  ‘I can see the enemy,’ Coronos murmured, his eyes distant, ‘so clearly as if I am there now, the memory never fades... I watched from the window, my heart pounding as it does now.

  ‘Their faces…’ he whispered, grey eyes wide, ‘all grotesquely deformed as if their bones do not fit under their dead ashen skin. And their eyes are the worst for they are soulless, filled with madness and a terrible hunger for the life force that they can never have. To look them in the eye instils terror into the hearts of all living things.’ Coronos looked at Asaph who shuddered.

  ‘Once upon a time those beasts had been Human or Elf or Dwarf. But now…’ Coronos shook his head and looked at the floor, ‘now they are something else. Their souls have gone to oblivion whilst their bodies live on, made immortal through forced consumption of the foul Black Drink. And what it does to Dragon Lords… a most terrible thing.

  ‘When Baelthrom destroyed Drax he saw to it that all Dragon Lords were captured, tortured, and dissolved into abominable half-beings; the Dromoorai and their steed, the Dread Dragon. One soul, one body, split into two beings of equal power… and equal evil.’ Coronos stared at Asaph, ‘all the Dragon Lords are gone, Asaph. I pray most were killed rather than enslaved, though my heart breaks to say it.’

  ‘I cannot think of a worse fate for so noble a being,’ Asaph said. ‘What is this Black Drink? You mentioned it a long time ago but I forgot to ask more about it.’

  ‘The Elves call it “Sirin Derenax”, it means Oblivion of Souls. Once a living being consumes it the foul magic captures the soul and once enslaved it can then be extracted by the slaver, one of Baelthrom’s vile Necromancers. In the transformation to immortality the soulless body is forced to grow quickly; bones become thick and heavy, unnatural muscles bulge causing the body to twist and deform into all manner of lumbering shapes. The mind grows dull and empty; the body is soulless but immortal.

  ‘Most beings become Maphraxie soldiers but Dragon Lords become Dromoorai; Wizards become Necromancers, even animals are not exempt, becoming Foltoy or Death Hounds. The Goddess only knows what other hideous beings Baelthrom has created.’

  ‘But what happens to the enslaved soul?’ Asaph asked.

  ‘No one truly knows except Baelthrom and his Necromancers. It is thought part of the soul’s life force is instilled into the next Black Drink and the other part is sent into oblivion. Maybe even into the Dark Rift itself. Either way the soul is destroyed in the process; its living light is frozen and becomes dead light and then un-light,’ Coronos replied.

  ‘When the soul is taken like this no image or dream or whisper is ever seen or heard from them again. The Elves said they went into utter darkness, into oblivion, into uncreation.’ Both men were silent and Coronos wondered if Asaph too was considering how many beings had met such an awful demise.

  ‘Is there really nothing that can be done? Can no one stop him?’ Asaph whispered.

  ‘Always we have tried. I have mentioned before the united army, the Fighters of the Free World, collectively called the Feylint Halanoi. But even two and a half decades ago their numbers were dwindling rapidly; for they were killed or enslaved and used to swell the ranks of Baelthrom’s army faster than new soldiers could be recruited. In the end the Feylint Halanoi fight against their lost comrades, now monstrous immortals whose souls have long since been destroyed. The Great Goddess only knows what the state of the Feylint Halanoi is now, if it even exists at all,’ Coronos said, suddenly feeling very weary.

  ‘The hatred of Baelthrom and his immortal army is like acid in the throat to the Feylint Halanoi, as it is to us all. Baelthrom’s Necromancers work ceaselessly upon the Black Drink, seeking ways to make it stronger, its yield greater, and every day the Maphraxies grow more powerful.

  ‘I dread to think what the score is now, so long have we been gone from the Old World. I have felt safe out here,’ Coronos murmured, ‘safe from the vile reaches of the Immortal Maphraxies. But deep down I have always known that it was a false safety; for Baelthrom will not stop at Drax, or Frayon. He strives to conquer all of Maioria and beyond, for his mind is a cancer that knows no boundaries, that feeds off the living to sustain its unholy undeath,’ Coronos shook his head with a sigh.

  ‘I have always known that one day we must return to our homeland, whatever is left of it. Our souls yearn for it. Our lives were saved by coming here but the time has passed so fast and though to me it seems you will always be a boy you are a man now and I understand your need to see the world, your homeland,’ he smiled at Asaph. ‘Now, it seems, the time to return is coming, though in a way I wish with all my heart that we could stay.’

  ‘I too have felt it time to return to the Old World,’ Asaph said excitedly. ‘I have felt a growing restlessness over the past few months and now I can hardly bear it. Though I love my friends here dearly, my homeland calls to me,’ he trailed off and both were silent for a while.

  ‘Sometimes I dream of her, my mother,’ Asaph finally whispered, turning the flame ring over in his palm, ‘but my true father I have rarely seen clearly. What really happened to him?’

  Coronos smiled ruefully, ‘you will have the whole story from me won’t you? And I guess it has been kept from you for long enough. Despite what I think and feel, you are indeed a man now, I must remember that. Your father looked like you, though your hair is redder and your eyes are most surely your mother’s.’

  Asaph smiled and closed his eyes, as if he were trying to picture them.

  ‘King Ixus, your father, was like me, a Dragon Rider, but without Pheonis beside him as Dragon Lord and Dragon Rider, he was like a knight without a sword. He refused to ride another Dragon, for a bond must be forged between them, and instead took a horse to lead the ground army,’ Coronos’s voice grew tight as a lump rose in his throat.

  ‘I hugged him close, pretended not to see the unshed tears in his eyes. He knew, as did I, that we would not meet again. And then he was gone. I am sure, and it is a small blessing, that he was killed on the battlefield and not enslaved by the Sirin Derenax,’ Coronos smiled weakly at Asaph, hoping to reassure, but the younger man’s head was turned and he could not see his face.

  ‘I pray to Feygriene for you, beloved King Ixus, that you rest in peace,’ Coronos whispered, relaxing a fist he had not known he clenched. ‘Hours later I heard you come screaming into the world and the wet nurse called me in to the birthing chamber.

  ‘I went to her a
nd she said, “He has fallen”, your father had fallen in battle. Then she held you to her breast in a fierce embrace and tears spilled down her face. Her expression I will never, ever, forget. Resolute, unyielding, even to the bitter end,’ Coronos spoke softly.

  ‘She whispered, “It is over,” and I had nodded. I still hear the guttural orders of the Maphraxies as they streamed into the courtyard through the battered gates and crumbling walls. I can see clearly their swarm through the City of Draxa like a mass of black, scuttling, beetles. The clash of metal still rings in my head and the screams of dying men and women… It may take a while, but they would find her chamber eventually, hidden high and cleverly in the fortress though it was.

  ‘She named you “Asaph”, and as you know it means “the rising sun” in the old tongue; “for the perpetual dawn and the hope that rises with it,” she had said, “if our people fail today, and surely it seems we must, may it be him who brings light to the darkness that sweeps across our world.”’ Coronos smiled at Asaph, sensing the young man’s discomfort.

  ‘I wish that she were right,’ Asaph said softly, ‘I have been as useful as a fish out of water.’

  ‘You have only just reached manhood,’ Coronos laughed. ‘You expect too much of yourself, I only tell you what she told me, and your mother was never wrong about anything,’ he paused for a moment, the smile faded from his lips.

  ‘Drax and its Dragon Queen were lost, though I wanted to deny it then as now. She told me her wishes, speaking with strength and passion despite her exhaustion, commanding me to do my honour-bound duty for my Queen. Her tears fell ceaselessly as she passed the tiny crying bundle that was you, from her breast to me. Funny, I remember her being that small when I was much younger; so long had I stood by her side.