Dark Moon Rising (The Prophecies of Zanufey)

by A. Evermore

  ‘That is ridiculous!’ she blurted out, suddenly angry at everything that she could not understand, which was most things at the moment. ‘Is it your thinking that I can help you fight this... this Baelthrom?’ her breath caught in her throat as she struggled with the name, unwilling to speak it aloud. ‘How can the ramblings of mad people thousands of years ago have anything to do with me? I come from a tiny island in the middle of the ocean where I mostly tend sick animals!’

  ‘I didn’t believe any of the prophecies either,’ he said with a gentleness that soothed her unexpected fury, ‘even when the dark moon rose. After all, the constellations are in constant motion, the moon was with us in the past so it means its orbit is just a very long cycle.

  ‘However, the night before the storm I had a dream, and in it I followed a raven to the ocean; in the turbulent swell I saw a face. Imagine my shock when I found you washed up upon these shores after the storm, for the face I saw in my dream was yours. I only found you because a raven led me to you, just like it happened in my dream.’

  Issa did not want to believe him, had not the strength to believe him. She looked at the raven outside wondering why he was always with her now, like some feathered guardian here to protect her.

  Freydel spoke quietly, ‘Our very future is in jeopardy. Baelthrom’s unholy magic stretches across the world, tainting everything it touches. One by one the Feylint Halanoi fall to the Maphraxies, and each life lost only increases his army, makes him stronger. Baelthrom will not stop until the Immortals dominate all. And after Maioria where next? He will not stop here, do you not see?’

  ‘Immortality? Is that not what all living things want anyway?’ she demanded, emotions rising.

  ‘Look,’ Freydel said holding up his hands for calm and smiling, ‘I know it is a lot to understand. I am sorry to have distressed you when you are still recovering. Come, it is late, we can continue tomorrow after we have eaten and slept. Let us get something to eat before Maeve scolds us,’ he said. The air seemed to brighten at his words, much to her relief.

  ‘I want to know more, I have so many questions, too many,’ she said, rubbing her temples, drained by emotion, ‘something to eat might help.’

  Freydel paused before the door, contemplating. ‘I have something that will make it much easier and quicker to understand, you will be very privileged, for no one but Wizards have ever seen it. However, it can wait until tomorrow.’ He winked at her in a way that made her laugh and together they made their way down the long winding steps of the tower and through a small door that led into the Castle Elune.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The Orb Of Death

  The next day, after another big breakfast brought out by a red-faced and beaming Maeve, Issa panted up the winding stairs of Freydel’s tower. She knocked but there was no reply. Slowly Issa opened the door to find Freydel engrossed in a book so large and thick that she doubted she could lift it. He had obviously made an effort to tidy up. The chairs were clear of books and the desk had many neat piles of papers and scrolls roughly ordered. He did not hear her come in or when she closed the door behind her.

  ‘Is that made for giants?’ she asked lightly.

  Freydel jumped and looked up at her over half-moon glasses. ‘Ah hah! Up earlier today, and how do you feel?’

  ‘Much better,’ she said, ‘I’m sure there is something special in that pink drink you gave me.’

  Freydel nodded with a smile and tapped his nose secretly. ‘I have something to show you,’ he indicated to a black velvet pouch in the centre of the desk. ‘Can you sense anything about it?’ he asked.

  Issa looked at it curiously, ‘I can feel some kind of power, a sort of fuzzy electrical feeling, it must surely be magical, and old though I don’t know why, that much I can tell,’ she replied.

  ‘Very interesting,’ he nodded slowly, ‘I am pretty sure you have magical talent that is otherwise untapped. You would not be able to feel anything if you did not.’ He picked up the pouch and carefully pulled out a dense pitch-black orb larger than a man’s fist.

  Issa’s eyes were transfixed upon that perfectly smooth dark surface, as if the darkness within drew her into it. ‘Yes, it was after Keteth came, I remember now,’ she said quietly. ‘Coronos held a glowing ball, was saying words I did not understand. And then I don’t remember much else.’

  ‘Coronos? A glowing orb?’ Freydel asked, suddenly excited, ‘what colour was it? Was it about this size?’

  ‘Yes, like that but… It was white though, or maybe grey I can’t remember, it seemed to change colour. It felt very different to this one; lighter, of sorts,’ Issa shook her head, trying to remember. The black orb didn’t glow at all but seemed to suck in all the light. It was hard not to look at it and though she tried to look away it kept drawing her gaze back.

  ‘So Coronos lives...’ Freydel murmured to himself and turned his attention back to her, ‘I thought I recognised the man when I was scrying through the orb,’ he laughed in delight.

  ‘I have only ever seen two of these in the flesh; just two out of the six that exist. The Ancients created them when they split the magic into its constituent parts and used them to bind Baelthrom in his prison. They are the keys to mastering their respective powers and not the magic itself, a gateway to channelling the magic, if you like. It is feared that most orbs are now lost except for this one, given to me by my dying master. Only those of the Wizards’ Circle know I have it and, of course, yourself. Baelthrom searches for them so you must not speak of it.’

  Issa nodded, wishing she did not have the responsibility of such knowledge.

  ‘When Coronos disappeared we thought we had lost his orb too, but it seems we have not and that wily fox lives still!’ Freydel smiled.

  ‘This orb I have here is the Orb of Death; destruction, annihilation, the ending of life’s light and the beginning of the darkness that is death. It is the embodiment of the absence of all that is, the absence of light, the nothingness, the darkness. But it is not purely negative, for it is a great cleansing force.

  ‘Its sister orb is the Orb of Life, of creation, of light, and they cannot exist alone. For light cannot exist without the darkness, and life, true nourishing growing life, cannot exist without death; as in the death of old thoughts, actions and ideas that prevent growth. Because of this I know the Orb of Life exists yet is lost to us.

  ‘What of the others?’ Issa asked, intrigued. Freydel nodded and continued.

  ‘There are four other orbs, each symbolising the four sacred elements; fire, water, earth and air. The orb Coronos carries is the Orb of Air. It was gifted to the Dragon peoples of Drax by the Ancients long ago. They were the masters of the air and it befitted them.’ He looked out of the window, his eyes wistful, ‘By the Great Goddess I’ll be damned, you survived, you old dog, and what great happenings are you now weaving...’ he said, chuckling.

  Issa looked out of the window as well and wasn’t surprised to see the raven perched upon the ledge, eyes half closed, dozing. The sky was a brilliant blue and she could just make out the tops of rich green conifers surrounding the estate.

  ‘Tell me of your other companion, the younger one,’ Freydel said, turning back to her.

  ‘I don’t know any more than their names and what they looked like,’ Issa replied, but as she spoke she felt it was not quite true, that she knew Asaph more deeply than that, though she did not understand how or why.

  Freydel nodded slowly, ‘Maybe an apprentice to Coronos. Tall, reddish-blonde, you say?’ Issa nodded. ‘Then I shall not tax you with needless questions. Draxian for sure.’ Freydel sighed heavily and slumped back in his chair, as if overcome with weariness.

  ‘So many years of searching…’ he whispered to himself and Issa wondered if he had forgotten she was there. ‘…Intense study, researching endless prophecies, seeing signs… and now we are here, now I have found that which I have sought for so long, I feel nothing but exhaustion; not the happy elation I had hoped for, but instead fea
r and foreboding. The search is done, finished, but now the tide advances and the war that will break us all looms at our doors.

  ‘If there is some way I can help, some way I can alleviate your burden, tell me.’ Issa said, worried for the man who trusted her enough to share with her his life’s work and deepest desires in just the few hours she had known him. He said nothing, as if he had not heard her, and instead sat rubbing his eyes.

  ‘I know Drax is a place far to the north where they say Dragons and people live together in harmony. But I don’t know any more than that,’ Issa said, feeling terribly ignorant. She had rarely thought beyond the shores of Little Kammy and now she was thrust violently into the world with not a sick horse in sight. ‘Where are the other orbs?’ she asked hopefully.

  Freydel looked up with a start, suddenly remembering himself and that she was there. ‘Forgive me,’ he rubbed his eyes and spoke with a little more energy. ‘When the Maphraxies invaded Drax and killed their King and Queen, the people fled in all directions. It was thought none survived but it seems that Coronos did, and along with him the Orb of Air… the Goddess have mercy on him. Let me show you, it is easier.’

  Freydel placed the Orb of Death on a squat metal stand in the centre of the table. With his hand over the top of the orb he spoke words Issa did not understand mentally, but the feeling of them moved something within her. She looked into the orb and saw swirls of tiny golden and silver stars moving of their own accord in the blackness. Freydel carried on speaking in a normal tongue and images showing what he spoke of began to form within the orb.

  ‘The Orb of Fire was given to the Dwarves, the masters of flame and forging, and maybe, hopefully, they still safeguard it deep within their molten caves.’

  Issa saw a huge cavern where molten lava ran in gullies through great underground cities, just like rivers ran through forest villages. Short squat human type people with thick muscles and friendly, smiling faces, sat around a table and at its centre was the Orb of Fire, the same colour as the molten lava. Freydel continued and the image changed.

  ‘The Orb of Water was the first to be lost long ago. It was entrusted to the Wykiry,’ Freydel’s voice dropped. ‘Once they were humankind, sea nymphs, people of the ocean and they had a wonderful gift. They could transform themselves into beautiful sea creatures.

  Issa looked upon small slender people with shimmering pearl-like skin and huge purple eyes. They moved as gracefully as butterflies and a gentleness hung about their demeanour. In a flash the Wykiry were swimming, now more fish-like in appearance, with long fins for hands and feet. One held the Orb of Water, a mix of all the blues from deepest azure to glistening turquoise and the palest aqua. Freydel’s words drifted down to her.

  ‘Some say they are related to the evil Histanatarns, yet these wonderful beings were everything they are not: kind, honest, and possessing of a pure magic. In their innocence Keteth tricked them, tricked us all, and stole from them the Orb of Water.

  ‘In their anger and fury the Ancients blamed the sea nymphs for their blunder. In their arrogance the Ancients refused to blame themselves as well, and cursed the sea nymphs just as Keteth had been cursed when he stole the orb. This terrible curse bound them forever to the ocean and damned them never again to walk the land in human form or speak with human tongue. Their limbs were forever fins and they could never sing their beautiful song nor play their beautiful instruments again. They were no longer sea nymphs but called Wykiry, or “land banished” in the Ancients’ tongue.

  ‘Over the centuries they became a forgotten people, and the land dwellers in their ignorance now saw them as pretty fish, mere bringers of luck, as they tossed them, unwanted, from their nets back into the sea. Many believe they exist only in Fairy Tales. They were no longer the most majestic and beautiful of the nymphs that they had once been.

  Issa watched the image of the sea nymphs dissipate with a lump in her throat, she wanted to look at them longer, as if doing so would somehow revert the curse.

  ‘The Elves, dwellers of the Forest, were entrusted with the Orb of Earth but no one has seen the orb again and no Elf will speak of its existence.’ She saw the tall slender Elf people gathered in a rich green forest, surrounding an orb that was suspended in mid air. It was a myriad of emerald greens and golden browns, the colours of the trees and the earth. ‘It is my fervent hope that they have it still,’ Freydel added, worrying his short beard.

  ‘The Orb of Death was given to the Humans, masters of destruction and of great spiritual growth,’ he said wryly, ‘I guess it is most fitting.’ Issa looked upon a smaller replica of the black orb within itself, gathered around it were kings and queens with their gleaming golden crowns, Wizards in robes holding thick staves, and women clothed in sky blue robes that Issa immediately thought to be Seers.

  ‘The Orb of Life was kept by the Ancients, the great creators, the wielders of the most powerful magics and none could argue differently, after all these orbs were crafted by the Ancients to protect the peoples of Maioria.’

  The image changed and the black orb became a sparkling mass of all the colours, mesmerising pastel hues, as if a rainbow had been trapped within it. It was the most beautiful thing Issa had ever seen but it was not only the orb that made her gasp. The people she saw gathered around it looked familiar. They were like the Elves but taller and, if it was possible, more beautiful and wise. She felt a great magical power move within them. Then she remembered Murlonius, he had looked as they did, although dimmed of his splendour. She was about to speak but Freydel carried on.

  ‘Beautiful aren’t they? And the orb too,’ he said, smiling.

  Following her feelings, Issa decided not to mention the boatman, not until she had spent more time thinking about it on her own and was sure of his identity.

  ‘The Keepers of the Orbs, as we are called, were given the task to be guardians of them, to protect the orbs at all costs, ensuring that they never came within reach of the Immortal Lord. But no one could know how powerful he would become. Over millennia many ill-doers, driven by greed, have tried to find and take the orbs, hoping to restore their power to only themselves, but all have failed and at their peril,’ he sighed. They sat silently for a while and the orb became shining black and empty once more.

  Issa considered all that she had heard, but it seemed to have little to do with her, despite what Freydel said. Still, it was fascinating to learn so much about the world beyond Little Kammy, she found it exciting and mysterious even if it was about war and Immortals.

  ‘Tell me about the Maphraxies,’ she asked.

  Slowly, and with meticulous attention to detail, Freydel told her of the Maphraxies. For a long time he spoke, the orb reflecting his words in the form of images. Issa listened in silent intrigue, shocked to learn that such hideous creatures were once humans or Elves or Dwarves, captured by Baelthrom’s Necromancers.

  ‘They undergo agonising experiments in the Immortal Lord’s insatiable quest to create those like him, abominations of nature and immortal. He succeeded. Deformed beasts devoid of any mind or soul and enthused with incredible strength and speed, fearless and ferocious fighters, the perfect army,’ Freydel said and then was silent.

  ‘I had known of Dwarves, though only ever seen one on the bow of a merchant ship coming into Kammam. But where did the Dark Dwarves come from?’ she asked.

  ‘They were originally a secret society of Dwarves,’ Freydel said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair that creaked in protest. ‘Whence the sect came into being no one knows, such was their secrecy. They dabbled in the darkness, in the black magics, deep within their caves. They were Necromancers, murderers, slavers, involved in blood rites and rituals, and all manner of powerful but evil things. When their numbers grew too large they could not hide their secrecy and the Light Dwarves tried and failed many times to stamp out their creed, but they were too clever, too well hidden and, in the end, too powerful.

  Issa saw the Dark Dwarves within the orb, grey-faced beings with feverish
darting yellow eyes that glowed within the darkness of their caves. They bore little resemblance to the rosy-cheeked Light Dwarves she had seen earlier.

  ‘In times of persecution, they added to their numbers - not just Dwarves but bringing in other races who sought the evil magics to further their own selfish power, even Elves were not immune to the seduction of power. After a bitter struggle the Light Dwarves drove them out of their homeland, Venosia, into the vast swamp lands of western Ostasia. There in the swamps they hid and, unhindered by others, their magic grew potent, infecting everything around them like a plague.

  ‘The Saurians, the lizard people of the swamps, died of pestilence in great numbers, even the damnable Harpies succumbed to their twisted magic. Over the years, kept in their dark underground cities, the Dark Dwarves’ skin turned grey and their minds clever but bereft of empathy and compassion. The Saurians withdrew far away from the Dark Dwarves and the rest of Maioria and many doubt their very existence now.

  Issa saw upright scaly beings that resembled walking lizards rather than humans. They were taller and stockier than tall men and had thick muscles and long heavy tails. Bright red tongues darted in and out of their mouths. But unlike animals they spoke to each other in a low hissing language, lived within stone-based structures, and their stepped pyramidal temples were inscribed with elaborate tilted writing.

  ‘The Dark Dwarves had portended Baelthrom’s coming, and when his abominable presence arrived upon Maioria it was they who nourished him, for they had long awaited a god that would lead them in their evil ways.

  ‘Through their black necromantic art the Dark Dwarves created a powerful potion, an elixir distilled from the souls of the living. The Elves call it Sirin Derenax, it means “Oblivion of Souls”, a description that befits that despicable poison,’ Freydel spat and shuddered. ‘It works its evil quickly; nothing can stop it, killing every cell in the body. Immortality and oblivion come swiftly.