Dark Moon Rising (The Prophecies of Zanufey)

by A. Evermore

  There was stillness for a moment as they looked at each other and then, where she had touched, lines of age began to form and deepen. Issa watched as her double withered and bent until she was haggard and old. Finally she collapsed in death, her lifeless body shrinking with decay and then fragmenting until it was nothing but dust.

  Issa murmured a word and a warm wind blew, picking up the dust. The swirling specks drew together again and became the form of a raven. The raven cawed and circled around her. At her gesture it flew away into the night, carrying the woman’s essence with it.

  ‘Because of the Dark Rift,’ Issa explained, undisturbed by what had happened, as the Guardians looked on sadly, ‘it is the truth of things within the incarnate world, Maioria, that all must grow old and die, that Zanufey’s face will be the last face they see before their final breath,’ her words were low and deep, vibrating through her whole being.

  ‘Ageing is not the natural way of things. Death is not the natural way of things. One day there will be no ageing and no death, as the loving Great Goddess had originally intended. True life is everlasting, true life is eternal. Until the darkness has passed, all who die will see the loving face of Zanufey, whose raven will carry them through the darkness and into the loving eternal light. Return to us, beloved,’ Issa whispered.

  Sparkles of light formed before her, silver and gold and all the colours of the rainbow. They flashed and multiplied into millions of tiny stars, then came together into the shape of a person and the same young woman stood serenely before her once more, un-aged, smiling and whole. Issa smiled and bowed humbly before the returned female Guardian then stood silently, looking intently upon the next object that was being passed to her.

  It was a brilliant white dagger, double-edged and undulating to a deadly point. Carved inscriptions adorned it from haft to hilt and, though it was beautiful, it was ice cold to the touch and filled with a terrible hating vengeful magic. Its power was dark and awesome. Issa held it aloft and spoke again in that same low, reverberating voice.

  ‘A dagger with a single deadly purpose. It is a dealer of destiny to one who has caused much pain within the world. Despite its destructive purpose, I feel much healing will come after it has been fulfilled. Like the circlet of feathers upon my head, this dagger belongs to me, if I can wield it, but it is not mine forever.’ Issa carefully placed it before her on the grass where it gleamed brightly.

  The sky above them became tinged with orange, heralding the oncoming dawn. They all now waited for the third object to form, for what it was had yet to be decided. The sun broke over the horizon behind her, spilling its warm light over the sea, setting them ablaze in fiery red. It was the sun that proclaimed the final item.

  They passed to her an object wrapped in golden threaded cloth. Issa took it carefully from them for it was long and heavy. The same hot energy that flooded from the sun also flooded from it.

  ‘This is not a thing of darkness, like the others,’ she breathed, surprised, ‘but of light, of fire and passion and life. This does not belong to me but to another,’ she frowned and then smiled. ‘I see the owner’s face. Eyes blue like sapphires… filled with fire and passion, like the object itself. I know this man…’ she trailed off, warmth flooding through her body.

  Issa peeled back the cloth and stared in wonder. The cold steel of the ancient sword shone fiery red in the growing dawn light; red like the blood it had spilt eons past. Upon the cross-guard was etched two crescent moons back to back, the pommel was a round red stone formed from the blood of the last Dragon it had slain. The sword spoke to her silently.

  ‘Slevina,’ Issa breathed the name aloud. ‘Blood is what made it, for it is a sword of war and death, but it is also the symbol of union, the mingling of the blood of human and Dragon. It is the sword of Dragon Lords, it is the Great Sword of Binding, and none but their like can wield it.’ Her voice rang out loudly as she spoke of things her earthly body had never known.

  Dimly she heard a dull tolling, like drums beating in the distance, but it was far away and she paid it no heed. Though her body screamed at her not to touch the sword, for such was the danger of its enchantment, a greater need forced her hand.

  Issa let the wrappings fall away and gripped the hilt firmly. Burning heat exploded through her fingers, but she did not flinch or pull away, and instead let the pain consume her and know her intimately. With great effort she hefted the sword and held it high above her head, sweat trickled down her face from the pain and concentration as she fought to hold it. Blinding white light exploded out from it and the tolling grew louder until it was deafening.

  ‘The drums are the drums of war,’ the Guardians spoke as one and fell back, shielding their eyes from the light of the sword, so bright was it that none could look directly at it.

  Issa’s body was in burning agony but still she held it. She closed her eyes against the pain and in her mind saw another massive disc rising beneath the sun, slowly climbing the same path. Then the dark orb covered the sun completely, its circumference framed in the fire of the sun behind it. The light of dawn grew dark and instead they were cast in a low blue light.

  ‘Behold, the dark moon rising!’ Issa cried.

  The blue moon was as awesome as it was beautiful and she reached out with longing for its purity and cleansing power. It did not deny her and its magic spilled into her like cool water, soothing the burning fire of the sword that consumed her. It filled her until she was both fire and water in equal measure.

  ‘A balance is struck, as in all things,’ she said, and turned her attention to the sword. ‘I know your master for he is the fire, the light and the life even as I am the water and the darkness.’ The silver ring on her finger flashed blue. ‘Through me will your master find you, and so I can hold you, if only for a little while.’

  With finality and the sealing of fate Issa cried aloud the name of the sword and the name of its master and drove the blade hilt deep into the earth. The light went out, leaving only darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  A Healer's Gift

  Issa sat up in her bed in Castle Elune remembering every moment of her nightly vision, only now she felt very small and insignificant. She had no idea where the knowledge of swords and eternal life had come from either.

  ‘A dream?’ she whispered, wiping the sleep from her eyes and yet feeling like she had not slept. ‘I fancy myself a Goddess?’ she laughed, it sounded hollow. It had not felt like a dream and for a moment she thought if she reached for the magic she had felt then it would still be there. But she did not try in case it wasn’t. For wondering whether or not the magic was still there was better than the disappointment of knowing for certainty that it wasn’t. Better to live the illusion, at least then I can still believe.

  Whatever it meant she felt bewildered and overwhelmed, as she always did whenever she returned from the sacred mound. Each visit seemed to carry a great responsibility that she was not ready or willing to accept when she returned. She felt closer to a deep and ancient part of herself who existed beyond the incarnate realm, but it was hard to put into everyday words. She wondered whether to talk to Freydel, maybe he could make some sense of it.

  It was very early and the sun had not yet risen but she was wide-awake and could sleep no more. She slipped out of bed and went to her clothes. Someone had lain a new piece of clothing on top of her riding clothes, it must have happened whilst she was asleep because she hadn’t noticed it before.

  ‘How beautiful,’ she breathed, holding up the midnight blue dress dotted with silver beads like stars twinkling in a night sky, her dislike of dresses suddenly dissipating under the sparkles. She had never been able to afford fancy clothes on Little Kammy and had little need for them there anyway. It was long and the material was soft, gently tapered, and flowing. She reluctantly set the dress aside and slipped into her riding clothes.

  Issa stepped outside into the warm night and after a moment’s thought headed towards the stables. Duskar whickered
at her approach and was bold enough to poke his head outside the stable door.

  ‘There now,’ she soothed as she carefully entered the stable. She laughed when he let her stroke him. He stood there quietly, patiently, intrigued at what she was doing but not nervous. Issa sensed he enjoyed her touch on his back. His feelings were like a faint extension of her own. She stayed only long enough to soothe his fears and then quietly left, not wanting to overstay her welcome and hoping only that he was getting used to her presence.

  Issa returned to the house with joy in her heart as the sky turned pink with the dawn. It promised to be a beautiful day. She was actually looking forward to the day’s celebrations.

  Issa quickly washed, put on her new dress and ate a hasty breakfast before going to find Ely. She found her carefully threading red roses around a garden table.

  ‘I love to use flowers in this way, it feels so creative,’ Ely said, looking up as Issa approached.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ Ely grinned. Issa smiled, colouring a little, and gave a twirl in her dress, almost losing her balance.

  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t do that,’ Ely said in mock horror and they both laughed.

  ‘You made the dress?’

  ‘No, Tagartha, our seamstress adjusted it, she is quite an artist,’ Ely smiled, ‘but the truth be known it was one of my dresses that I had rarely worn because it is too long for me and you are tall. I have so many you see, most given as gifts.’

  ‘It’s lovely, thank you,’ Issa smiled.

  ‘You did all of this?’ Issa asked, marvelling at the flower-filled grounds and marquees already brimming with exotic food and wine.

  ‘Hah! Yes and no. The maids and I, and a little help from Freydel,’ she said with a wink. Issa laughed. ‘Magic can be so helpful, it’s such a shame I never had the gift,’ Ely sighed.

  ‘I should think it makes one lazy,’ Issa mused with a grin.

  ‘Isn’t that the truth!’ Ely replied, arching her eyebrows.

  They chatted for sometime about the flowers Ely was arranging and the types of food and wine that would be coming from all over Maioria. Issa found herself enjoying Lady Eleny’s calm and friendly company. She felt there was much to be learned from this generous woman. Perhaps a good friendship would be formed and she was in sore need of those. Issa wondered, and not for the first time, if Ely had tried to find another husband. Before she could stop herself she asked.

  ‘Do you have family somewhere? It is a large house to have so few people in it,’ Issa instantly regretted it as a flicker of sadness passed across Ely’s face. The older woman looked at Issa as if wondering whether she should say anything or not. Issa immediately felt bad for listening to Maeve’s gossip.

  ‘My husband, Dargan, died many years ago,’ Ely sighed, and smiled sadly. ‘Like so many of the Feylint Halanoi soldiers he had been fighting the Maphraxies in the north and was on his way home for a break from the war. The boat was wrecked.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Issa said, and stared at the ground, wishing she hadn’t said anything.

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Ely. ‘I have no other family left now. We were late to marry. It was hard at the time because I was a Priestess in training, travelling between temples in Frayon. These days it is forbidden for a Priestess to seek a lifelong partner and children, which is what we both wanted.

  ‘The Temple rules have digressed from their original teaching of love and unity and are more about control and obedience. My views were always at odds with the Temple, though I kept them mostly to myself and served the loving Mother to the best of my abilities.’

  ‘You are a priestess?’ Issa blurted. Her feelings were right, she could learn a lot from this woman.

  ‘I was,’ Ely replied, ‘it is normal for the Lady of Castle Elune to be a priestess. But I am one no longer.’ Issa was about to say more but decided to let Ely speak.

  ‘So I chose Dargan and left the Temple, my duties, my training... it was not an easy time. The Priestesses of the Temple have never really forgiven me, not even after all this time. I am sure they even placed Cirosa here on Celene to keep a close watch on me in case I try to influence others with my views. But it doesn’t bother me; I keep to myself, running Castle Elune. Works well for me,’ she said with a shrug and then smiled with pursed lips.

  ‘Priestesses and Priests from the temple will be here today for the ceremonies of thanksgiving to the Mother Goddess. We are at least civil to each other now, since Dargan died. Through his death it somehow pardoned me a little in their eyes,’ she looked up at Issa, lines of age visible on a suddenly tired face.

  ‘It was Keteth wasn’t it,’ Issa’s voice was low, Ely looked away.

  ‘That beast sunk his ship and took him along with many others. My one love, cruelly taken from me.’

  ‘The same ship as Duskar?’ Issa asked, frowning.

  Ely nodded and sighed heavily. ‘They say we must not grieve for the dead forever, we must get on with living,’ but the tone in her voice suggested she did not believe it.

  ‘Who knows how many lives he has taken,’ Issa growled, angry for Ely’s loss and at her own persecution by the White Beast. ‘One day that beast will meet his match.’ Ely’s smile wavered a little on seeing the seriousness upon Issa’s face. Issa squeezed Ely’s arm, ‘I know how it feels to lose those you love and to be alone. There is something special about this place though,’ Issa said, on a lighter note, ‘it seems to heal the soul.’

  Ely smiled, ‘Celene is a special place, closer to the divine mother in many ways. We cannot live in the past but must be strong in our own truth as we live fully in the present.’

  ‘Well said,’ agreed Issa, ‘are you are prophet? You should speak to Freydel,’ she added, laughing.

  Ely jabbed her in the ribs playfully but then linked arms with Issa and led her into the morning sunlight, ‘Ahhh, let the sun banish those cold silent places in the soul where sadness lingers.’

  The sunlight did indeed seem to light the dark places of the soul. As Issa thought about all those she had lost, it didn’t seem to hurt as much. She could see the black scars on the green landscape but it didn’t wrench her soul apart.

  ‘Freydel and I have spoken. There are dark times ahead,’ Ely said, in all seriousness, ‘though I do not profess to understand all that Freydel speaks of. I want you to know that you will always have a home on Celene, wherever your journey takes you. Actually, I have a gift for you,’ Ely said, her blue eyes wide and smiling. She laughed and pulled Issa along behind her into the house.

  ‘Hang on, wait! What about the guests? I can hear them arriving,’ Issa squeaked.

  The first of the guests were indeed arriving in the front courtyard, the sound of horses’ hooves and wheeled carriages clattered loudly upon the cobbles. The servants were in a whirl of final frantic preparations as they hurried to receive them.

  ‘Oh, they can wait,’ Ely laughed like a little girl.

  Along the black and green marbled floor of the hallway they sped, up the spiral staircases and past many doorways and rooms that made sure Issa was truly lost by the time they entered Ely’s extremely large bedroom.

  They came to stand before an oak dressing table. Ely picked up a small wooden box and held it between her hands. Issa felt subtle energy, like the warm glow of an oil lamp, emanating from it and wondered what was inside.

  ‘This was my mother’s. She, like me, was a Priestess but unlike me she had a gift just like yours, she was a Healer. I was to follow in her footsteps but I did not have the gift, it must have missed me somehow,’ Ely smiled wryly.

  ‘Nevertheless she gave it to me and not another with the gift. She said something like, “Though my beloved daughter does not have the Healer’s gift, there are many other things she has been gifted with, and she will pass this on to the one who needs it… you shall know this person when you see them.”’

  Issa watched entranced as Ely opened the box. Inside was a beautiful silver band exquisitely made out of the leaves of many dif
ferent trees. She instantly recognised oak and willow but could not quite see the others.

  ‘I know little of its power and less of its meaning, for that is what the true wearer will know,’ Ely explained, ‘but it symbolises the tree of life, the tree of healing.’

  For a moment Issa saw an older woman form around and within Ely, with Ely’s same handsome heart-shaped features and fair hair. The woman smiled at her knowingly and then was gone, leaving Ely the younger, looking at her. Issa blinked.

  ‘The maker of the bracelet,’ Issa said, not realising she spoke aloud.

  ‘You saw her?’ Ely asked. Issa looked at her.

  ‘I saw a woman, like you but older, it was your mother who made it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ely smiled, ‘she said the new owner would see the old one, once and no more,’ tears glistened in Ely’s eyes and she looked away. ‘Here, take it with my blessing, it is yours truly anyway,’ she said blinking back the tears.

  ‘It is beautiful but how could I possibly accept such a gift? I have nothing to give in return and you have given me so much already,’ Issa said, bewildered, thinking Ely’s tears were because she was giving away something she loved.

  ‘These tears are not for the bracelet, but for my mother,’ Ely said and smiled, her eyes glistening with wonder.

  ‘Listen,’ Ely added, seeing Issa’s discomfort, ‘I do not think you fully fathom the peril we face. The war is coming to our shores like it did to your home, and all will be forced to fight or die. I have dreams,’ she hesitated, ‘they are prophetic but only in terms of my fate. I have seen a darkness coming, a darkness that is truly my own. I am not a coward and will not go easily, but I pray to the Night Goddess that she meets me swiftly for I will not become one of them! This bracelet was meant for a Healer and I only pass on what my mother wished.’