Dark Moon Rising (The Prophecies of Zanufey)

by A. Evermore

  ‘Well, he has long been without a name, unfairly so I feel,’ Ely smiled.

  Issa looked at the magnificent horse in the darkness of his stable and then closed her eyes trying to recall the image of black fire. A vivid image formed, a world of fire, great walls of orange flames burned all around her. The flames turned black and within them she felt freedom and fury and the forming of a word.

  ‘Duskar,’ Issa breathed. The raven cawed again above them and the horse stamped his foot as if in response.

  ‘A most fitting name,’ Ely replied nodding thoughtfully, ‘in old Celenian it means “black fire”.’

  ‘Yes!’ Issa laughed aloud, ‘That is indeed his name,’ she said stroking his neck and wondering at what had passed between them. The sinking sun now cast them all in a red glow.

  ‘Come, it is late, and though I would love to spend more time here with my horses, there is much I have to do. Come back to see him tomorrow or whenever you like. Maybe you can help us train him,’ Ely said.

  ‘I will try if I can,’ Issa said and stepped away from Duskar, unwilling to leave him alone in the darkness once more. Until tomorrow, friend, she directed her thought to him. Duskar tossed his head and then retreated back into the darkness, not healed but calmer than before.

  Freydel and Maeve were no longer there, so Issa and Ely walked alone along a pale-pink stone paved path through sculptured gardens back to the castle, chatting of Issa’s healing experience on Little Kammy.

  There were many servants setting up chairs and tables about the lawn and gardeners busily draping beautiful garlands made of pink and purple flowers and hanging baskets of blues and yellows between several marquees that would serve food and drink from across Maioria.

  Issa followed Ely to the dining room where a large empty fireplace dominated one wall and on the other were tall windows, open to let in the cool evening breeze rich with the smell of the ocean. There was a large mahogany table laid with white plates, cutlery and wine glasses. Only three places were laid at one end and Issa and Ely took seats next to each other. Hot smells of spices came from somewhere and Issa’s stomach rumbled hungrily. It seemed she could not eat enough since escaping the Shadowlands.

  ‘Freydel will join us shortly,’ Ely said just as a young maid with dark eyes and chestnut coloured curls entered. Ely got up and took the tray carrying an unlabelled bottle of wine from her. She set it down upon the table. ‘It’s all right Glyn, we are very late and I apologise. Don’t worry we can look after ourselves now.’ The maid smiled shyly and left them to pour their own wine.

  ‘She is always shy of new people,’ Ely explained, ‘I like to think we are all friends in one big house, rather than Lady and servants, for I have need of friends the most and would much rather do things for myself, though many of them insist I do not,’ she sighed.

  Freydel walked in as the maid left. ‘Ah, there you both are. And that’s a fine bottle of Celenian wine,’ his eyes lit up as they rested on the bottle Ely was pouring.

  ‘Only the finest for Mid Summer’s Eve,’ Ely grinned.

  Issa took a sip, it was soft and mellow and instantly relaxing. ‘I haven’t drunk wine since it was Ma’s birthday last autumn. ‘It was always too difficult to grow on Little Kammy and the imports were so expensive. We had to make do with cider and ale,’ but as she said it Issa saw the blackened trees of their once fine orchard and wished she hadn’t spoke.

  ‘The best cider always came from the Isles of Kammy,’ Ely said.

  ‘Here’s to the finest cider from the Isles of Kammy,’ Freydel said, raising his glass of wine with a grin. They all cheered and chinked glasses.

  A large roast dinner was set before them and they sipped the fine wine as they ate and spoke of the celebrations tomorrow. Soon after dinner Issa found herself struggling to keep awake.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me I think I’ll have to go to bed,’ she said between yawns and left Ely and Freydel chatting. When she got to her room Maeve was there, her plump face smiling as she laid out a pair of riding trousers, slim boots and a white shirt.

  ‘Lady Eleny thinks you should have these to wear. She told me about that nightmare of a horse and you naming him Dusk…arr. Seems like you have a way with animals, which can only be a good thing in them there stables! I think she wants to get you on a horse as soon as she can. She longs for a riding companion; since her husband passed away she rides alone, if at all, these days. He was such an honest and handsome man, too good for this world I’ll tell you,’ Maeve sighed, gossiping on.

  Issa took the clothes from Maeve’s outstretched hands, ‘Thank you, Maeve,’ she said with a relieved smile, glad to have trousers. ‘Dresses are lovely but having lost all the clothes I once owned... it means a lot to me.’ Maeve smiled and patted her shoulder.

  ‘Has Lady Ely been alone long?’ Issa asked.

  ‘Aye ten years or more, the time goes so quick. She has never fully recovered, and never re-married, though there have been many a young man keen to take her hand. Lady Ely dearly wanted children but he died before they could. Such a sad story,’ Maeve sighed heavily again.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Issa said and looked at the floor.

  ‘There is something on her mind of late, a worry or burden, though she won’t speak of it and says nothing’s wrong,’ Maeve continued, looking up at the ceiling as if the answer might be there somewhere. She shook her head and looked back at Issa, ‘Well, now I think about it, we have all been feeling odd lately, sort of pensive and highly strung, as if something is about to happen though we don’t know what. Never mind, it is hopefully only excitement for the Mid Summer Celebrations. Anyway, you look like you are falling asleep on your feet.’

  Issa settled into bed and Maeve pulled up the covers as if she were a child.

  ‘Good night, Maeve,’ Issa said with a yawn.

  ‘Good night, dearie, sleep well,’ Maeve said and softly shut the door behind her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The Awakening

  Issa opened her eyes suddenly moving from deep sleep to wide awake. She sat on a cold stone step, her head resting on her fist, once again beside the grassy mound surrounded by stone pillars. But there was no voice calling, the silence was complete.

  Issa looked around her in confusion, she was alert and very much not dreaming, but how on earth did she get here this time? She felt intensely impatient, as if she had been waiting for something so long she had fallen asleep, but for what she did not know. She rubbed her eyes and shivered against the chill, it felt like autumn was approaching.

  Why do I keep coming here? She pinched her skin. It hurt and left a red mark. Not a dream then. What do I do now? She hugged her arms feeling odd, like she was herself but different, more alive, more aware. The colour of the trees, the grass, and the stones all seemed deeper, richer, the silence tangible, the forest smells intoxicating. This place was more real than anywhere she had ever been. Something important was pressing upon her mind but she couldn’t quite bring it into full consciousness.

  Issa stood up and looked down in surprise for she was no longer dressed in a nightshirt but in tough leather trousers and tunic. The leather was flexible and slick, greenish-black, like oil. She fingered the surface tracing the huge interlocking scales from which it was made; scales from a reptile bigger than any she had ever seen, except, of course, a Dragon. She tried not to think about Dragons.

  The fingerless gauntlets, and long boots coming up to her knees, were of the same material. In vulnerable places were dark metal studs and, for all intents and purposes, she knew it served as some kind of armour. About her waist was a thick belt studded with metal and rings and small pockets. At her sides hung two weapons; on her left was sheathed a short sword and on her right a knife that emanated a magical aura.

  Issa turned toward the dark entrance of the mound to look at her reflection in the mirror-like surface, feeling the ground begin to pulse like a heartbeat as she did so.

  ‘Right,’ she said deci
dedly to herself, her voice sounding out of place and echoing in the silence, and she wondered what she had decided. Her confidence wavered somewhat as she looked back at her image: a warrior clad in Dragon skin armour. Slowly Issa released a breath she hadn’t known she held and reached towards the doorway. The surface wobbled at her touch, the ripples extending outwards in perfect circles and yet her image remained untouched by the distortion and stood staring back with that same hard smile. Slowly but decisively, defiantly almost, she stepped into the icy blackness.

  The liquid cold lasted only a moment and Issa stumbled in surprise onto solid ground in a dark room. She had not woken in her own bed at Castle Elune as she had expected. She turned back but there was no doorway behind anymore, only cold stone. Breathing deeply she tried to calm her racing heart. The air was not stale like an old tomb, as she had first thought, but fresh and moist as if she were still outside in the forest. What had happened to the desert? Did it not always lead to the same place?

  She swallowed and strained to see in the darkness. As her eyes adjusted Issa noticed a soft diffuse light coming from above and gasped as she looked upon a sky filled with stars and whole galaxies swirling in motion. Now and then a shooting star would blaze past and disappear. She stared until her neck ached and then slowly turned her attention reluctantly back to the chamber. It was now filled with pulsating waves of faint pastel-blue light.

  ‘What is this place?’ she whispered, half expecting an answer. In response a doorway formed in the wall before her and a soft white light came from within. For a moment she imagined that, from this place within the mound, many doors could form, leading to an infinite number of worlds and an infinite number of different times. Even as she thought it she knew that the doorways that formed depended upon the will of the person, depended upon their chosen path.

  Well, the only way available was forwards, she thought, and stepped through the door into the light. The door disappeared into cold stone again as she entered. The next chamber was warm and bright and the walls were covered in life-sized carvings: strange letters and runes interwoven with animals, birds and people, some intricate and small, others bold and dominating.

  Issa traced them lightly with her fingers, wondering at their meaning, and then came upon one that made her stop. It was a raven and behind and below it followed a huge golden Dragon. It meant something but she couldn’t be sure what. It wasn’t a Dread Dragon and instead was quite majestic and its feature calm, almost meditative.

  The chamber grew suddenly brighter as a soft mist drifted in from somewhere. It swirled about her feet like tendrils of white silk. The light came from two candles that burned atop a waist-high pillar on the opposite side to the raven carving. The pillar was ornately decorated in leaves and flowers and she was certain it had not been there before. Rich green ivy had made its way through the ceiling and entwined itself around the stone. In the top of the pillar a round bowl had been scooped out.

  Issa walked over to it and gasped as the bowl began to fill with water that came from nowhere. The candle flames above turned pale blue and became still, unwavering in the air. They gave off no heat either but instead felt positively cool as she passed a finger through them. There was no reflection of her in that mirror-like surface, only of the blue flames. She touched the water, it was cool but no ripples came from her touch, all was still.

  ‘Most strange,’ she murmured, her voice sounding loud in the silence. A great thirst overcame her. It couldn’t be harmful to drink it, could it? She laughed aloud when a small ceramic cup appeared beside the bowl, as if in answer to her unspoken question.

  Issa filled it with the silvery water and took a sip; it was tasteless, like pure spring water. She waited anxiously for a moment but no adverse reaction came, instead it was wonderfully cool and refreshing and she felt revived and invigorated. She smiled and drained the cup and then two more after it until her thirst was quenched.

  Setting the cup aside she noticed how beautiful the green ivy was, how delicate were the leaves, how tiny and intricate its veins. She could feel its soft pulse of life and fancied she could even see it growing. Everything around her became alive, even the stones had a life force pulsing within them.

  The sacred water filled her belly and the blue flames filled her mind with their soothing unwavering light, spreading stillness and life through her body, deepening her meditative state. She became aware of the room changing again and then the ivy parted before her, revealing a small doorway through which white light spilled. She stepped through into an orchard filled with apple trees in full blossom and a meadow beyond the low orchard walls filled with flowers and thick green grasses.

  ‘Home,’ she breathed and stepped forwards. As she moved, a clear water pool formed in the centre of the orchard, fed by a spring trickling beneath a thick-trunked willow tree on the far side, its long streaming leaves dangled in the water as they moved gently in the breeze.

  Gleaming white, nude male and female statues appeared around the pond standing in graceful poses. Their faces were serene and they were so real she began to feel embarrassed to be clothed in armour beside them, and armed with swords as well. She dropped her sword belt and undid her armour, her fingers awkwardly searching for the numerous straps and buckles to unfasten.

  Finally she let the last piece fall from her hands. Naked and, for some reason, free of embarrassment, as if this was how it should be, she stood a moment before the pool, not a ripple passed across its surface. Then, step-by-step, she walked down and slipped into cool waters. The water slid over her body like silk as she took a big breath and submerged completely. The pool was deep and she sank deeper but still could not feel the bottom.

  This water must be sacred for it was cleansing her body, mind and soul like no bath ever could; a breath of clean, pure, fresh air blowing through her being. As she hung there motionless her consciousness began to expand as her essence quickly became one with the water, with the world, with time and beyond it until she and it were indistinguishable. Her mind then wandered along many pathways as she drifted, detaching itself from reality, seeing it only from afar.

  The tiny bubbles became stars and planets and the dark waters were the cosmos. Effortlessly Issa moved through the many galaxies spread out before her, stars and planets spun around her and fell away. She was still herself but much more. She knew herself as the embodiment of all that is, was and will be. Her body was now the tiniest extension of her wider consciousness. For a moment her consciousness ceased expanding and then she felt it contract, as she knew it must, like a great intake of breath and then its impending release. The stars rushed towards her, faster and faster, and then there was complete darkness.

  After what seemed like eons had passed Issa became aware of several arms reaching down and surrounding her physical body, slowly lifting her towards the surface. The water slid away and cool air engulfed her and she breathed deeply. There was singing from many beautiful voices, tinkling and flowing like the song of angels. Her mind was calm, her eyes closed and she did not resist for she felt everything to be as it should be.

  Issa opened her eyes and looked up at the tall pale men and women that surrounded her. They had been the statues surrounding the pool earlier. Now they smiled serenely down at her. They all wore white robes now and Issa found that she too was dressed as they. White auras shone brightly around each of them and they spoke in unison as one beautiful voice filled with harmony.

  ‘We are the Guardians of the Portals, we serve the One Truth, we serve the loving Source of All.’

  Then they began to sing again, a beautiful song of words beyond human voices, and the air seemed to dance and shimmer to their tones. Issa smiled at them knowing she was safe here. They lifted her to her feet. Though she shone as pale as they, she was in stark contrast for her hair was long and dark and her aura was an indigo hue. Issa looked at them questioningly.

  ‘You are of the purest dark light, your purpose is in the shadows from where a new living light will emer
ge,’ the beautiful beings told her. ‘You will lead the incarnate world through the coming darkness so that pure light can be reborn brighter and stronger than before.’

  Issa pondered their words deeply as they led her from the pool and orchard into a forest of massive oaks and yews and birches. The Guardians were so bright they moved like shining white lanterns amongst the trees. There came a soft murmuring and when she listened harder she could hear the trees themselves singing softly along with the Guardians.

  Soon the trees dwindled and were replaced with tall grasses and delicate purple flowers, motionless in the windless night. They came to where the ground fell away sharply and stopped. Beyond the high cliffs stretched out an ocean, pitch black in the moonless night. An oak tree, some eight feet in diameter, stood between the forest and cliff’s edge. Its age unfathomable, a great guardian of the woods, a silent observer of the changes of time, Issa thought.

  The earth pulsed beneath her feet in time with her own heartbeat. The rhythmic tide of the ocean was indistinguishable from the blood that coursed through her veins for she was Issa and she was the world around her, both were one. She stopped beside the oak and turned to face the Guardians. They shimmered with an ethereal quality as they finished their song. After a moment of stillness they passed between them a circular black object. Issa took it when they passed it to her.

  ‘This belongs to you, if you accept it,’ they spoke as one and then were silent.

  Issa looked at the circlet of raven feathers and knew what she had to say, what was in her heart.

  ‘I accept it, though I am not ready to wear it,’ Issa breathed, tears filling her eyes for the deep reverence she felt, as if the Great Goddess Herself had given her the circlet. Carefully she placed the circlet upon her head, ‘I accept the mantle of Zanufey, the dark light of the Great Goddess.’

  Issa looked upon the face of the nearest woman, amethyst eyes beheld hers. She reached forward and touched the woman’s forehead and the woman became her reflection, head crowned with raven feathers, eyes dark like the sky above, the same shimmering indigo aura, the same smile.