Dark Moon Rising (The Prophecies of Zanufey)
Page 30
Issa nodded, still shaken, and let herself be led by Freydel towards the tall round tower at the back of Castle Elune.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Dark Rift
A cheerful climb soon became a weary trudge as they staggered up the many steps that spiralled to the top of Freydel’s round tower beside the Castle Elune. Out of breath and very sweaty they entered a large round room lined with shelves full of books and scrolls of all shapes and sizes. Some were so old they looked as though they would disintegrate if touched. There were also books on the floor stacked as high as her waist and the air was thick with dust.
Crammed against one wall was a bed pallet, but it too was covered in scrolls and parchment and Issa wondered if Freydel actually slept on top of them. The room was dominated by a round table in the centre, also covered in books, maps and scrolls. Along one section of shelves were numerous vials of all shapes and colours, some on top of the other balancing in a way that defied the laws of gravity, yet the dust upon them suggested they had not been moved in a long time. The whole room was a mess, dusty and stuffy.
Freydel coughed, partly from the dust, partly from embarrassment. ‘I don’t dare let that maid in here,’ he explained weakly, ‘who knows what havoc she would wreak!’
Issa arched an eyebrow at him and then strode over to fling open one of the windows. Wind gushed in sending paper and dust swirling into the air and Freydel leapt frantically to catch them.
‘What are you doing?! This is madness!’
‘I’ll not shut it until I can breathe fresh air!’ Issa fumed and coughed.
Freydel sucked his teeth and shook his head. With a whisper and a motion of his hand Issa felt a surge of magic. She watched in awe as the dust swirled, collected together, and streamed out of the window, which then closed, returning calm once more to the room. Freydel sighed in relief.
‘This room is special,’ he smiled excitedly at her, all grievances forgotten. He pulled on a thick red cord hanging from the roof, ‘it gives an excellent view of the stars.’
‘It’s wonderful,’ Issa said, staring up as the red blinds rolled back to reveal a huge domed window and clear blue sky above.
‘You can step outside on to the balcony too,’ he indicated to the small door opposite. ‘Here I can map the very heavens. You should come up here when the night is clear. I can show you the constellations,’ he said, busily searching for a teapot and cups hiding under the maps and scrolls.
Issa chose a chair next to the round table and took the books off it, carefully stacking them atop another pile that wavered frighteningly under the additional weight. She cautiously sat down, ready at any moment to catch an avalanche of books.
Issa watched open-mouthed as Freydel clicked his fingers and lit the tiny stove under the teapot with the small flame that appeared at the end of his finger. He rubbed his fingers together and the flame was gone.
‘How did you...?’ she started.
‘Oh, it’s just a small trick really, simple magic. Anyone with a little magical ability can do that,’ he stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘Hmm, there is much for you to learn. Magic, The Flow of energy between and within all things, exists throughout Maioria and the universe. You just need to understand how to harness the energy around you and matter will do your bidding. Most importantly you must learn how to use your own energy and protect your own energy fields.
‘Of course not everybody has the gift to use the energy of magic and even those that do, such as we Wizards and Seers and Witches, take years to master but a fraction of it. However, much of the power we once had has gone.’ He trailed off and looked out of the window, as if to find the lost magic out there somewhere. ‘Where to start,’ Freydel sighed, and leant on the round desk. Then he got up and pulled out some papers from under a book, two books from a shelf, and a rolled-up map. He tried to pick up another book but gave up when he dropped the map in the process.
‘Look,’ he said, coming around to her. He set the load down on the table, sending plumes of dust into the air, which he wafted away absently as he flicked through the pages of the largest book. It was labelled, “The Prophecies of Kartola Antasa. Book Five.” The aged fawn coloured pages crackled as he turned them. Though neat and pretty, the text was hard to read, written as it was in elaborate whorls and scrolls.
He traced the words he had recited earlier, ‘…into his shades of the Dark Rift…’ Issa mouthed the words. Freydel flicked through more wrinkled pages and pointed out other texts about the Night Goddess.
‘It’s a shame, I only have book five but there were supposed to be twelve, though I have tried hard to find them,’ Freydel sighed, and switched to the smaller book. This one was dark brown and completely bent into the shape of a bowl as if it had been used to prop up a bed. It had no title and the words within were hastily scribbled and untidy.
‘I have read many prophecies, albeit just fragments left of once great and marvellous texts, that mention the coming of the Night Goddess who will walk the earth in living form, “cleansing Maioria”. Many call that living form the Queen of Ravens. Fantastical I know, and as such these prophecies are generally considered to be myths purporting to wars only affecting mythical gods and not to us mere, weak mortals.
‘In some texts it seems this Queen of Ravens is a sort of warrior Goddess incarnate, a great and terrible war leader who will bring death to the Immortals. In others she is a loving and benevolent peaceful person, wielder of ancient magic, guiding the world into the light.’
‘Why does a Goddess need to send anyone here?’ Issa asked, frowning.
Freydel sighed but nodded in agreement to her question. ‘Why indeed. There are ancient myths so old even Wizards and Dragons can barely remember them. They speak of a time when men and women and other magnificent beings lived as gods upon Maioria and life was eternal, our bodies did not die. But then there came the Dark Rift in our cosmos and with it came ageing and death.’
‘A rift?’ Issa said, but despite her confusion something within stirred.
‘The myths suggest the people of the world caused the Rift to happen. With their great power and explorative minds they did something that broke them, they created a tear in the fabric of the world, which proved devastating. The tear became known as the Dark Rift.’
‘The Rift let evil things in from other dimensions that should never have been able to reach us. And I am not talking about the petty Demons from The Murk, the underworld close to Maioria. Oh no. These things were far worse, although what they did also brought The Murk closer to us and more easily accessible.
‘But, worse than all of that, people began to age and die, although they still lived for thousands of years. Over millennia, the life span of all things on this planet, and probably the planet herself, has degenerated, gotten shorter, and when they died their souls often became lost in the darkness.’ Freydel stopped talking when the kettle began to whistle.
Issa sat silently considering his words whilst he made the tea.
‘But why did they not fix the problem?’ She asked finally.
Freydel nodded, ‘Good question and one I still ask to this day. It seems that they did not understand what they had done in order to undo it. Through the tear, Maioria, our sun, and surrounding planets were bleeding their life force away, as the great peoples were bleeding theirs away too.
‘Only when the dark beings that came through the Dark Rift had enough energy to take physical form did the people know what they had done. But as the peoples’ life force bled away, so too, with it, their power. They no longer had enough power to fix the problem and they could not remember how they had done it in the first place because the people who had caused it were now dead.’
‘But the Goddess… she could have fixed it?’ Issa asked, wide-eyed, she had never heard any of this at school or from Ma.
‘Quite, but some people had become powerful and twisted and did not want to fix it. Clearly the dark beings did not want it fixed either as it would mean thei
r destruction. The Great Goddess Source of All loves all of her children and always allows them the free will to choose the life that they desire.’
‘But that’s not fair!’ Issa said, ‘I do not want to grow old and die, no one I have ever known has wanted that and I doubt I’ll ever meet one who does.’ She shook her head, unable to comprehend such far-reaching cosmic choices.
‘Yes this is true, we have been at the mercy of the free will of others, those that would destroy us, for too long and become trapped in these worlds of time. It is written that, in response to this plague upon our cosmos and through unconditional love for her children, that the Great Goddess sent a part of herself into the darkness. That part of her is Zanufey. It is Zanufey who reaches for the souls of the dead so that they will not be lost forever. They could then be reborn anew and try to fix the problem they had created.’ He fell into silent reverence, his eyes looking far into the distance.
‘If we do not want it anymore then why is it still broken?’ Issa asked impatiently.
‘We have degenerated so far we can no longer remember what we once were and perhaps we are no longer powerful enough to fix the problem. There was a chance when the Ancients were here, but Baelthrom and his horde of Immortals destroyed them and all their sacred texts, scriptures and magical works. If we heal the Dark Rift Baelthrom and his Maphraxies can no longer use us as their power, they can no longer feed off our life force.
‘It is my firm belief that Baelthrom himself was spawned beyond time, and through the Dark Rift he came into our time, into our world. We must remove him if we are to be free, if we want to heal. This is what the prophecies speak of,’ he tapped a hand on a pile of books.
‘From whence he came no one truly knows but from Maioria he is not. From life he is not; he is the absence of life, and of death, a true immortal. From within and beyond the Dark Rift I am most sure. He seeks to make all immortal, but his immortality is the absence of life, it is not divine immortality; his gift is one that sucks the life out of the living to survive. A parasite upon true, everlasting, life.’
‘Baelthrom,’ she mouthed the name and in a blink saw a dark figure, half human and half beast and all black armour. Great shiny-black wings stretched out behind him and in one giant gauntleted hand he held a heavy notched blade. His face was all helmet and those eyes - two terrible triangular eyes that burned any colour they chose. She trembled in recognition, it is he that hunts me, of that I am sure.
In his other hand he held a beautiful white star trapped in a glass bottle. Her eyes were transfixed upon that little star for it offered her the world and beyond. She reached for it, desire ran thick like treacle within her, her heart thudded heavily in her chest.
A piercing screech and furied tapping broke the image. Issa gasped and blinked up at the raven scraping and flapping at the window. He stopped attacking the window when she looked at him and perched calmly upon the sill.
‘Tell me of the Ancients,’ she said, changing the subject and hugging her shoulders, suddenly cold.
‘Here,’ Freydel said, turning from the raven with a worried frown and passing her a steaming mug. ‘Spiced apple tea,’ he said proudly. Issa took the mug and smiled, it certainly smelled good, apple and cinnamon and something else she did not recognise. She cupped it in her hands as it was too hot to drink.
‘Yet more power and knowledge was lost when the Ancients were destroyed, and what little power we have left is slowly being taken by Baelthrom. It’s as if the magic in Maioria is drying up,’ he stared out of the window stirring his tea, suddenly looking very tired.
‘The Ancients were powerful, beautiful, intelligent; the first to harness once more the magic that flows throughout the world. They fiercely fought against the Immortal Lord and, in their wisdom, broke the magic into its constituent parts, lest Baelthrom take it all from them, from us, the inhabitants of Maioria. With those parts they created a prison of complex design and enchantments and bound him deep within it, seeking only to buy enough time to find a way to be rid of him for good. For the first time we had a chance to be free of the darkness filling Maioria.
‘Unfortunately, in splitting the magic apart, the Ancients also made it weaker and thus, in turn, they and all Maioria were weaker. Despite their efforts they could not successfully send Baelthrom back into the Dark Rift and so his darkness was here to stay, the plague of his unholy power seeping through the world.
‘Then came Keteth, intelligent, greedy and completely mad. When Keteth stole the orb that enabled Baelthrom to break free of his prison, for so long had the Immortal Lord been bound that there was no mercy in his wrath and so powerful had he become that the Ancients could not withstand him. At this time they began to speak of fleeing, returning to their own mythical sacred land, Aralanastias. Even today their cousins the Elves speak of the Land of Mists, a sacred place where they can find sanctuary and hide from the world of men.
‘It was not long, thereafter, before all the Ancients were gone from Maioria. Baelthrom destroyed even the earth upon which they stood, their lands gone forever, sunk beneath the sea, all traces of a people and their great works erased in all but the memories of those who remained.’
Issa looked at the raven outside. She had always thought the Ancients were just myth, now she knew that they were real, the world was a sadder place without them. She wondered if they all looked like Murlonius. She tucked her legs up under her and sipped the tea. It was sweet cinnamon and spicy and very tasty. Freydel pulled up another chair beside hers and sat down heavily.
‘Baelthrom’s wrath was unleashed upon the rest of Maioria with great destruction because being imprisoned deep in the earth he had come to know the energy lines of Maioria and along them he flooded his own terrible magic. The seas surged forth to take the land, volcanoes that had lain dormant for centuries exploded into the sky, spewing forth thick choking smoke that covered the world and blotted out the sun. People and animals died and all crops failed.
‘War between desperate starving peoples broke out, much to Baelthrom’s delight, and plagues then took what the sword did not. They are called the Wars of Darkness for they fought always under the darkness of a poison-covered sky against the darkness of death, against the darkness that filled their hearts. Baelthrom grew strong as they grew weak, taking the magic of the world for himself whilst the people fought amongst themselves.’
‘Much was lost in the Dark Wars: books, scriptures, magics, arts, all gone. The Age of the Ancients passed and another age began. But now it seems another age is beginning for the dark moon rises in the time of our greatest peril...’ Freydel trailed off.
‘Could this new moon be his doing?’ Issa asked, not wanting to say Baelthrom’s name again.
‘The Dark Moon of Zanufey is not his doing, no. It is a message to him, to us, from the Great Goddess. A message of warning, for it is The Source of All that he ultimately seeks to destroy, for then all of Maioria and beyond our universe will be his to command. He wants to break the cycle of life, wants all beings to be at his command so then he and his immortals can rule the earth and beyond.’
Freydel stopped, looked at her as if trying to decide upon something, and then stood up and went to a cabinet on the wall. ‘I have compiled an extensive body of work dedicated purely to Zanufey and the dark moon.’ He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the cabinet. His hands shot to the doors as they burst open and bits of paper tried to escape.
‘I uh, hah, have not ordered my writings yet,’ he gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder and opened the cupboard. With a murmur and clap the tumbling parchments stopped in mid air and tidied themselves neatly back onto the shelf. Issa was at first mesmerised by the magic but then horrified at the tall stacks of paper.
‘I can take your word for it. I am a better listener than reader anyway,’ she smiled wanly.
Freydel shrugged nonchalantly but his shoulders slumped a little as if deflated. After some hesitation he closed the cabinet with a sigh and locked it again.
Freydel nodded, ‘Yes, that is what the peoples of the Known World call it. We are a peoples under siege, our world is not our own. Baelthrom’s might casts its dark hand across Maioria, and there are more of his Immortal Maphraxies than there are free peoples, or Feylint Halanoi.’
‘Freedom fighters,’ Issa said to herself.
‘Well, really the Feylint Halanoi are any of the peoples of Maioria who choose freedom from the Immortals, but it has come to be the name of our united army. But I do not call it the Age of Immortals, the Wizards’ Circle does not call it thus. We call it the Last Age, for there is no other age foreseen after this and the future is dark to us,’ he looked away from her into the distance.
‘The future is dark?’ Issa frowned, trying to understand and remembering Edarna had said something similar.
‘Yes. For it is the first time since the birth of Maioria that we cannot see the future, it is dark. It is dark because there is none, the future has not been decided, our ‘future’ hangs in the balance for there may not be one for us, it has not been determined. None of the prophecies,’ he indicated with a hand to all the books and scrolls around the room, ‘speak of anything past these end days.’
Issa felt a chill trickle down her spine. On seeing Freydel’s pale face she tried to give a hopeful smile and said, ‘Well perhaps it could be called the Age of the Raven.’ Freydel gave her a quizzical look then rubbed his beard thoughtfully and looked far away.
‘And what of this Child of the Raven?’ Issa asked, draining the last of her luke warm tea.
‘There can be three children of the raven, each one to come if the one before fails in their task. The Child will become the Queen of Ravens, who will lead us through the darkness. It is not a Queen who rules, it is more a term of status. And it seems you are one such Child of the Raven,’ Freydel replied. Issa’s throat went dry.