Dark Moon Rising (The Prophecies of Zanufey)

by A. Evermore

  ‘I feel the tides of change sweeping towards Maioria and none can escape it. The dark moon rising heralds this change, and now the girl inaugurates it.’ Grey eyes watched Asaph intently. ‘Too long have we been gone from the Old World, Asaph. Now we have returned but Drax is lost to us, we have no way of initiating you as a Dragon Lord, no one to train you. I have done what little I could by training you in the sword but more than that I cannot teach. Every day, every hour, you must search for those other Dragons you feel, be ever alert for their presence.’

  ‘I feel them but they are not... they are lost, far away,’ Asaph said quietly.

  ‘We must get closer to Drax, or what is left of it, in search of other Dragons where the bond between you may be stronger. I can think of no other way to help you.’ Coronos lowered his voice, ‘It is but a dream of mine, a fervent desperate hope, that we will defeat the Maphraxies and restore Drax to its former glory. Only then will justice be delivered, only then can we know peace.’ Coronos sighed and stood up, rubbed his hands upon his cloak and tucked away his now cold pipe. He set about preparing a rough bed of leaves on the ground, and stiffly lay down.

  ‘A night’s rest and no more, we must be off at first light. I would leave this place now if I could. You need longer for your wounds to close but we have no choice. The herbs I used are the best I could find in this place. Perhaps the orb can help us in some way though I dare not use it for a time, not now after all that has happened, and I too am weakened.’ The wind was gone now, though clouds remained blocking out the stars. It would be a dark night, which would blessedly hide their presence.

  ‘Sometimes I can feel her faintly through my mother’s ring, but not now, she must be far away. How can we be sure she is safe?’ Asaph said, his face pale. ‘I did not spend my whole life dreaming of her, nor risk my life venturing into the Shadowlands, to lose her now.’

  ‘When I feel it is safe, I will scry with the orb,’ Coronos said, opening his eyes and staring at the dancing fire. ‘The Wykiry will not have harmed her and, of all the creatures in this world, it is the Wykiry alone that can elude Keteth. Remember it was he that caused their fall when he stole the Orb of Water that they guarded, never again will they allow him to take from them. They would not have come for her without a reason, a reason I know not.

  ‘Beyond that we must trust in the Goddess. Have faith my son, she is stronger than either of us know.’ Coronos laughed inwardly, hearing the same words he had used to comfort himself when Asaph entered the Shadowlands alone. He closed his eyes again and muttered sleepily, ‘I am sure the dark moon rises with her,’ and then he was snoring softly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A Queen's Last Moments

  Sleep was a while in coming for Asaph, lost as he was in unhappy thoughts. He felt as Coronos did and longed to return to his homeland, for the fall of Baelthrom and the destruction of his Maphraxies. He wanted to be free of hiding, of not knowing who he was and, worse, being afraid of what he was. He felt as though he had been hiding his whole life.

  He looked at his sword, it glistened blood-red in the firelight. It had been Coronos’s once, but now the old man had no use for it. It was old but the blade was still un-notched, deadly sharp and perfectly balanced. It was a good sword. Once it had been a great sword, made great by the man who owned it. Asaph had only ever used it in practice but now it seemed soon to be used for real.

  Asaph pondered Coronos’s words for a long time but found little comfort in them. He was too tired to control his racing mind filled with thoughts of her, longing only to have her near, to make sure she was safe. He stared into the fire, seeing not the orange flames but a pale face framed by long dark hair. Please, Mother Feygriene, keep her safe. I will be with her soon, he prayed silently. Then pulled his cloak closer around him and finally drifted off to sleep, sinking into the depths of those sea green eyes.

  The sleep that came was tortured and Asaph tossed and turned endlessly. His mother was speaking to him, blood red curls framed a hard passionate face, but the din of a raging battle; shouts and screams and the clang of metal against metal, drowned out her voice. Her eyes were filled with love for him and she did not seem to notice the noise of the bloody battle.

  Perhaps it was the poison in his veins, perhaps it was finally revealing his long-held secret, but he awoke into a fevered half-sleep. As he lay there, The Recollection opened up before him and he saw the things he had always fled from: the last of his mother’s memories. These events even Coronos did not know for Coronos had left the chamber with the babe who was himself and though Asaph did not want to witness them, he could not turn away this time.

  Thousands of black armoured Maphraxies were attacking the walls of Draxa, the dead and dying strewn all about, the river running red with blood, a trail of death and destruction stretching from their shores into the heart of the capital. Anger and repulsion made him shudder, he could almost smell the acrid stench of their rotting flesh and feel the twisted magic of the black-clad Necromancers like a stain upon the soul.

  He tossed about under his cloak, ignoring the pain that shot up his side, even thankful for it. Though his mother trembled she was not afraid; there would be no fear in her half-Dragon heart. Taking her own life had never crossed her mind; it was dishonourable for Dragon Lords to shy away from death, they had to face it and fight unto the end.

  Deep within the castle they waited, waited for death to find them. A female figure stood beside his mother, but his mother did not seem to see her. The woman was cloaked in dark blue light. She smiled at him, only her pale chin and lips visible beneath her hood, and her skin was as bright as the moon. He recognised her as the woman he had seen in the desert but now she also reminded him of Issa. The dark blue light spread around his mother, calming her, and he heard her thoughts as his own.

  ‘I will not shy away from you, Night Mother. I beg thee take my hand.’

  Asaph smelt the stench of the Maphraxies long before they exploded into the room. His mother’s maids, all trained to fight to the death, took down the first with their daggers. The Maphraxie sunk to the floor gurgling blackish blood that oozed out over the wooden floor like oil.

  It was swiftly followed by two more, carelessly clambering over their fallen comrade, black eyes feverish with the dead frozen light of the Sirin Derenax as they lunged towards the women. Their grey skin was wrinkled and stretched over disfigured faces that nature itself would never allow. Bloodless lips curled back over broken teeth, blackened from the deadly elixir. Asaph found it hard to believe they had been human once. There were too many to fight and the last maid finally fell valiantly atop the other with a triumphant smile set eternally on her face.

  Dark Dwarves followed, crowding eagerly into the room. They were not deformed or huge but possessed an air of cruelty, of calculating wicked intelligence, and Asaph found he feared them more than the Maphraxies. But his fear of them was nothing compared to the building terror of the dark void that followed. The void spilled into the room and a dark shape materialised. From it soft laughter came that spread like a freezing wind through the chamber.

  ‘Mighty Drax has fallen, my Queen, and all the Dragon Lords lie dead or bound,’ the voice scoured across her mind as it did his own. ‘Soon they will enter my service, only stronger, twice as powerful and immortal.’

  Queen Pheonis trembled uncontrollably, as the Immortal Lord materialised from the darkness, filling the room with his mass. The light of the room dimmed as if he sucked its energy dry. Like his Maphraxies he too was an abomination of nature for his torso was human yet twice the size of any man. His lower half was surely Saurian, a reptilian race who inhabited the swamps of Ostasia, scaly skin and heavily muscled legs complete with razor sharp claws that dug deep groves into the wooden floor. A thick tail swayed lazily behind. Protruding from his back were two black wings like those of a Demon.

  His head was encased in a black metal helmet extending into three high points, the outer points curling in towards the centre
like a crescent moon on its back, pierced by the central one. From behind two triangular slits in his helmet glowed all-blue pupil-less eyes that darkened until they were two black pits boring into her soul and leaving nowhere to hide.

  With all her will she tore her eyes from his and sagged with the effort. Baelthrom’s eyes exploded into red with rage. With a motion of his hand they dragged her from the birthing bed towards him. She cried out from the pain of her birth and their careless tearing hands. Asaph tried to pull away, to awake from this terrible half-dream deep within The Recollection, but he could not.

  Baelthrom’s burning eyes filled her vision as it did Asaph’s and cold black metal crushed her fragile human form in a deathly embrace. Pain like ice tore through her body, soul and mind as his magic of undoing entered all, took all, refusing even her sanity to remain for even her thoughts he plundered and ravaged.

  An eternity of agony stretched out before her, but in that darkness an older, more powerful force grew, as unstoppable as breathing, relentless like the ebb and flow of the tide, and she reached towards it. A door appeared before her and upon it was carved a massive, beautiful, Dragon head. She touched the door and it opened.

  A figure cloaked in stars stood in the doorway and her pale luminous hands slowly lifted back her hood. Asaph felt an outpouring of love from his mother, like a wave of warmth as she looked up into the face of the Night Goddess.

  Before he could see her face there came a great jolt that released him from The Recollection and jerked him awake. Asaph sat up wide-eyed and let out the breath he had been holding in a relieved sigh.

  ‘It is not my time to see the face of Zanufey,’ he whispered gladly, wiping the sweat from his face. ‘Oh Mother,’ he sobbed, shaking with emotion, fervently wishing that he had never left the Kuapoh, never left those rich and fertile lands, his friends and adopted family. But he knew that when he accepted the quest to free Issa from the Shadowlands, he would not return. His only home now was as far north as the Unchartered Lands were west, a place that was not warm and peaceful but cold and rugged; a place where majestic snow-capped mountains reached high into the sky. Drax, how he longed to see it, to free it, to claim it.

  The pain in his side forced him to lie back down. Sleep stole upon him once more and with it came dark dreams. In them all was a black helmet with red eyes that bore into his soul while he could only stand and tremble.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Beyond The Veils Of Time

  ‘Maion'artheria,’ the word was barely a whisper on the wind. Issa recognised the word and after a time remembered its meaning. My sacred daughter, she thought, but could not remember where first she had heard it. The word was filled with the gentlest love that echoed through and round her, filling her with life, drawing her towards it.

  She shifted and opened her eyes. She was sitting cross-legged upon soft dew-laden grass in the middle of a glade surrounded by ancient oaks. It was as if she had been sleeping and just opened her eyes for a moment. A gentle breeze carried the rich fresh scent of the forest. Though she was dressed in only a night shift it was not cold, as if it were early morning on a warm summer’s day. She looked up. The sky was tinged pink, but whether it was dawn or dusk only time would tell.

  I have been asleep, she thought, but where is this place? How did I get here? Issa rubbed her eyes but could not remember.

  ‘Maion'artheria,’ again the voice whispered, making her start when she realised it was not a dream.

  Issa stood up and moved towards where she thought the voice came from. A little way ahead there was a trickling stream, beyond which a thick forest spread. Mist hung in tendrils around the tree trunks and all was still and silent. How beautiful it is, Issa thought, but why am I here? How am I here?

  ‘Maion'artheria,’ whispered again, drawing her on.

  Issa followed the voice across the stream and into the forest where the trees became older and larger until they were enormous and their dense canopies blotted out the sky. Here, deep in the forest where the trees were kings and queens, she paused and felt the pulse of the earth beneath her feet: a living heartbeat that her own heart beat in time with, she and the forest and the earth were one.

  As she walked the trees became more spaced out and ordered into a linear fashion. So old were they that she could not help but wonder who or what had planted them so long ago and, more interestingly, why they did so.

  ‘Maion'artheria,’ the word was louder, closer than before.

  Issa’s breath caught in her throat and she stopped suddenly, ‘I know this place,’ she whispered. Ahead of her, under the clearing mist, were the massive silver blue stones she had seen before.

  They are the same I saw at home. The raven led me there.

  ‘Is this a crossing place? To another time or place, or both?’ She spoke aloud hoping the voice would answer her but there was no reply.

  Maybe there are hundreds of them, she imagined, all leading to different places, maybe even universes. And then again, perhaps there is only one. She somehow felt both answers to be right, yet beyond her comprehension.

  Ahead the mist had cleared completely to reveal the grassy mound. The stones surrounding it seemed whiter than she remembered, and positively glowing, like quartz in sunlight. The same large oblong stones framed the entrance to the mound, only this time their edges were sharp and defined, not aged and worn and collapsing.

  With a finger she traced the beautiful carvings on the door-frame, all interlocking swirls and symbols, and wished she understood whatever important message they sought to convey.

  ‘Maion'artheria,’ the voice called to her from inside the mound and her heart beat faster as she peered into the blackness. The silence was complete, not even the wind stirred the leaves in the trees above. It was if the whole world waited and watched.

  This place was surely sacred, unfathomably old, its existence stretching back into eternity, the very weight of it made her feel magnificently small and with each step towards the blackness the weight grew heavier. She was certain the earth throbbed harder here, as if she was closer to the source, her legs trembled with it.

  Issa moved her hand forwards; the flame ring on her finger flashed fiery red and became warm as she reached into the cold silvery black mirror. Her reflection formed in the ripples and she pulled her hand back to look at it. The ring shone brighter than before and all the tiny scratches of wear and tear had vanished, it gleamed like new. She looked back at the entrance but the ripples had gone and so, too, had her reflection. Issa took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and stepped into the blackness.

  The cold engulfed her, taking her breath away, as it surrounded and entered her body, filling even her mind so that there was nothing but the cold and darkness, eliminating fear, purifying her soul. The blackness did not clear and instead images came and went in Issa’s mind for so long that she wondered if she was alive or dead.

  A familiar figure appeared and she looked back upon herself suspended in murky seawater. The white robes she wore swirled around her like ribbons, her face was calm and serene. In her hand she held an ornately carved white dagger, the blade was double-edged and undulating and it was all one piece from tip to haft. It glowed with its own pale-blue light and she could feel the magical enchantment upon it, a frightening enchantment that was destructive, murderous, and wholly bent on a single purpose; the death of another. The image faded and another came to take its place. A woman’s face appeared. Issa stared hard.

  ‘Ma,’ she breathed, joy and sorrow in her heart. Her mother smiled, her cheeks were flushed and she stood straight and strong like she had before the sickness came. ‘I miss you,’ Issa said but as she spoke her mother disappeared in a flash of brilliant white light.

  ‘Wait!’ Issa cried and tried to follow but then everything became saturated in the same brilliant white light. ‘Come back, don’t leave, I need you. I cannot do this alone. Please, let me come with you into the light,’ Issa sobbed.

  ‘It is not your time,
’ another voice said softly.

  The words resonated through Issa and a wave of calm flowed over her from the light, filtering through her being. Issa became still, wondering where the voice had come from. A shadow formed behind her and she turned to look at it. The darkness emanated peace and her fear was stilled. Suddenly a wave of understanding overcame Issa and she nodded.

  ‘Go into the light, Ma, be free,’ Issa breathed, feeling a mix of happiness and sadness. ‘My time is not yet. There are things I came to do, and I must do them,’ Issa whispered.

  After she had spoken those words Issa felt she had let her mother go to rest in peace and a deep pain began to heal. She could also feel a part of herself, her younger self, her innocence, leaving. But in the place where her naïve younger self had been a new understanding formed, wisdom bloomed.

  ‘I feel as if somewhere, deep within me, a decision has been made and now something fundamental is changing,’ she breathed to herself and the voice, trying to understand the feelings within. ‘I am changing, growing, and there is no going back to who I was before, to what there was before.’ The world, her world, had changed and now she had finally accepted that she felt stronger and wiser.

  A figure whose cloak was made of the stars emerged from the darkness, face hidden within the folds of a hood and a raven upon her shoulder. The woman smiled, only her chin and pale lips visible within her hood. An intense feeling of unconditional love swept over Issa.

  ‘Maion'artheria, will you accept this divine task and help Maioria?’ The woman’s voice was low and gentle.

  Issa smiled and nodded and as she did so the raven launched into the air and landed upon her own shoulder.