by A. Evermore
‘Why have you come to Frayon from the safety of those lands across the Lost Sea? For decades Baelthrom’s threat spreads like a disease across the land and now, unexpected, a dark moon rises and a Dragon Lord and Dragon Rider return from across the ocean. We feel great change in the magic and life force that moves through us all. Can it all really be coincidence? We do not believe in coincidence, nothing happens without meaning.’
Coronos was silent for a while, watching the old Karalanth. He was afraid to trust. Maphraxie spies were everywhere. How far the Immortal Lord’s power stretched no one knew. Fear and distrust was like a poison infecting all the free peoples of Maioria. It was their weakness and Baelthrom knew it. He sighed again, they already knew Asaph was a Dragon Lord, and so he chanced a partial truth, overcome with a desperate need to trust someone.
‘Some twenty-five years ago when Baelthrom invaded Drax we, and only a few other Draxians, reached that far away land, for Feygriene was with us that day. We have been in hiding ever since, hoping it would be long enough for us to be forgotten.
‘Asaph had a vision when the dark moon rose and, come good or ill, accepted a divine yet treacherous quest. It was our time to leave. To the Shadowlands we travelled and from there into the Lost Sea where we faced Keteth. Our boat was destroyed and so nearly were we. I fear our fight with him has not gone unnoticed for I unleashed magic powerful enough to resonate far across the Known World. We are in danger and are putting you in danger by staying here.’
‘Danger?’ The old Karalanth snorted. ‘We have never been safe. That is some tale, Draxian, and do not worry, your secrets are safe with us, why else would we aid you when we could have killed you? Long had we thought all the Dragon Lords were gone from Maioria, destroyed or turned into those things. Foul beings!’ he spat.
Coronos shook his head sadly at the thought of Baelthrom’s Dromoorai. He looked down at the deathly pale face of Asaph, the last of the Dragon Lords, and his heart was heavy. None of those captured by Baelthrom ever saw Zanufey in their final moments; none of them were led to Feygriene’s light where their courageous souls could rest. Their souls were lost, destroyed.
‘Pray for the Seer’s swiftness,’ Triest’anth said with a frown.
‘There was another with us when Keteth came,’ Coronos said cautiously, ‘I don’t know if you can help, it seems wrong to ask more of you... She was lost when the boat sank.’
Triest’anth shook his head sadly, ‘Then, Draxian, she is gone and Keteth has her, of that I am sure.’
Coronos looked into the distance, ‘There is more. It was her Keteth was after; it was how he found us. Asaph fought him bravely but he is young, inexperienced, although it was enough to stall the beast, and then the Wykiry came... beautiful,’ Coronos smiled, remembering their shimmering forms.
‘Why they came I know not. They must have known she was there, somehow. They must have some understanding of her importance. There is something special about her you see. Thank the Goddess they took her before Keteth could reach her...’
Triest’anth was watching him carefully. ‘What exactly was this task the young man was called for?’
‘A long and difficult story, I will tell it to you a little later. First I need a safe place to scry for her, somewhere quiet and sacred,’ Coronos said avoiding the question, fearful of revealing too much too soon.
‘If you can wait until nightfall when the forest is dark, my son Cusap’anth, the one that brought you here, can take you to such a place,’ Triest’anth said, ‘stay here with the young Dragon Lord, I shall find him.’ The old Karalanth turned and left the hut.
Whilst he was gone Coronos considered the Karalanth people. He remembered that they always named their sons with the postfix ‘anth’, and all daughters, ‘ynth’ to symbolise the unity of a widely scattered people, united in name if not in presence. As he wondered about their future, Triest’anth returned, followed by his stern-faced son.
Cusap’anth moved with a grace that belied his great size. His fur was a rich brown, his antlers large and wide. He was in his prime, majestic and strong, every bit the leader of the tribe. Coronos could not help admiring him. Cusap’anth’s eyes fell upon him and Asaph and his features softened almost into concern, all traces of hostility gone and seemingly with it any reluctance to lead a two-foot on a scrying mission.
‘When the moon is high I will come for you. We will travel deep into the forest,’ Cusap’anth said, his voice deep and resonating with a thick accent so unlike his father’s, suggesting he had little contact, if any, with other races.
‘Thank you,’ Coronos said gratefully.
Cusap’anth inclined his head and then, finding no reason to stay longer, left on silent hooves.
‘My eldest son is hard and proud, but beneath that he is honest and trustworthy. I think he will make a good leader, if he learns compassion. “A leader without empathy is a leader of no one but themselves”, so one of our sayings go.’
Coronos smiled in understanding, ‘We have something similar in Draxian. In truth we would not have survived had he not brought us here,’ he conceded.
‘Is he truly your son?’ Triest’anth clearly chanced a direct question, ‘I am merely curious about the bond between you.’
Coronos hesitated and then decided to speak openly, ‘He is the closest thing I have to a son. My first child I had to leave behind, many years ago now. My, how time flies. It saddens me greatly but I know nothing about my daughter. Though I loved her mother very much…’ he trailed off, wondering why he had mentioned it, for the memory hurt even now. It seemed all his memories hurt. ‘He is all I have now and I am old, maybe too old, to teach him what he must know.’
‘I understand,’ Triest’anth said, laying a comforting hand on the Draxian’s shoulder, ‘we all have painful memories, friend.’
Coronos started at the last word, feeling honoured to be trusted by this strange and noble deer man, but said nothing.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Woetala's Moon
The afternoon turned slowly into evening. Coronos managed to feed a little watery soup to Asaph, enough to bring colour to his pallid cheeks, but the young man did not fully awaken from his sweat-soaked nightmares. After supper Coronos lay on a makeshift bed beside him, but worry for his adopted son kept him far from sleep. The deep breathing of Triest’anth across the room told him the Karalanth slept soundly.
A few hours later, he couldn’t say how long for he must have finally drifted off to sleep, the soft pale-orange light of Woetala’s moon awoke him for it fell directly on his face through the open window. Fully awake he got up to check on Asaph.
The young man’s sheets were damp and Coronos replaced them with his own. Asaph did not stir, but continued his soft murmurings, words too quiet and broken to understand. Cold sweat beaded his pallid forehead and he looked haggard, as if he had aged twenty years in just a day.
Coronos sighed in frustration and helplessness. He could do nothing more for the man except pray that the Seer would come swiftly and could help. Carefully he held a cup of water to the man’s lips and managed to get some down before refilling it and drinking deeply himself. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared disconsolately at the empty cup.
The door quietly opened and moonlight spilled over Cusap’anth’s majestic form.
‘Come,’ the Karalanth said quietly, ‘we must go. It will be an hour’s walk, on two feet that is.’ He turned from the door. Coronos followed the Karalanth; glancing back at Asaph once and then closed the door, subconsciously feeling for the Orb of Air tucked away securely in his robe.
The night was fresh. The rich smell of the forest filled his nostrils and he breathed in deeply. There was the feel of magic in the air tonight. Under Woetala’s moon the night was alive and free and wild, like the Karalanths themselves. It filled Coronos with life and he felt some thirty years younger.
They walked quickly in silence; Coronos struggled to keep pace with the Karalanth’s steady walk. Cusap’
anth was listening and watching intently, every now and then looking up into the trees, hearing things that were beyond Coronos’s human senses. Finally they came to a small grassy glade illuminated by soft orange moonlight.
‘This is a safe place, a protected place. Magic may be used here and none will feel it,’ Cusap’anth said, arms folded across his muscular chest as he scanned the skyline.
Coronos didn’t doubt it; the magic he felt here was strong, strong enough to mask anything he could form for he was not a powerful Wizard. He looked around him cautiously and took out the orb; it glowed softly as if sensing the magic that abounded in the place.
Cusap’anth’s dark brown eyes looked at the orb entranced, for a thing of such power often instilled desire within all who beheld it. Coronos started to hide it again, fearful of Cusap’anth’s fascination. The Karalanth tore his eyes away and shivered.
‘Trust me you are safe, Draxian, I would have none of that burdensome power.’
A dark shadow passed over them. Coronos jumped and hastily covered the orb.
‘Do not fear, two-foot,’ Cusap’anth said with a smile as he looked upwards, searching the sky. He made a bird-like sound and held his arm aloft. In a sweeping decent an owl appeared out of the night and landed gracefully on it.
‘She is a friend,’ he said, stroking her chest.
The owl was tawny in colour with a white chest and face and wide saucer-like eyes that stared at Coronos unblinking. Cusap’anth whispered to it and it swivelled its head back to look at him.
Coronos knew most Karalanths could communicate with certain animals of the wood, that the Daluni talent, the ability to speak with animals, was strong amongst forest peoples. It was a tradition, a coming of age, for all Karalanths to spend weeks alone in the wilderness, searching for the animal to which they were linked and could communicate to. They learned to survive on their own and fend for themselves, as was demanded of a persecuted people. Some never returned.
Cusap’anth turned to Coronos, ‘Have no fear, she is no Maphraxian spy,’ he smiled reassuringly, ‘there must be a reason why she came to us tonight, she should stay.’
Coronos hesitated and then nodded acquiescence, unwrapping the orb once more. His attention immediately absorbed into the thick swirling clouds within it.
The Flow found him quickly tonight. A field of magic engulfed him swiftly like a soft blanket. Alone he could touch only a trickle of that magic but with the orb it seemed a river opened to him. The exhilaration of that power was akin to the feeling of riding the skies upon a Dragon’s back as he had done so many times all those years ago. He closed his eyes and even now could feel the wind rush past his face as they sped through the air, the ecstatic feeling of speed and freedom.
He sighed and let the memories go, turning his mind back to the task at hand. He focused on her face, that alabaster face with sea green eyes and long dark hair. He opened his eyes to see that same face floating upon the clouds within the orb. She stared back at him unblinking, a little afraid, a little confused and yet there burned within an inner fire that could not be extinguished. Coronos lowered his eyes under her gaze; he too was afraid.
Cusap’anth muttered something beside him but Coronos’s mind was too far away to know what it was and he carried on, letting The Flow of magic carry him. Her face became transparent within the orb and he moved into it. He was travelling at great speed over a glittering ocean; white clouds clung to a blue sky above. A fertile green land appeared upon the horizon, an emerald set within a glittering turquoise ocean, with sparkling white sandy-coves and high forested hills. The world was tranquil and calm.
‘Celene,’ he whispered, marvelling at the beauty of the Isle of the Goddess, ‘of course they took her there.’ He laughed aloud. And then he felt another mind touch his. He pulled back instinctively, afraid. This mind was powerful.
‘Fear me not, old friend,’ the mind said gently.
‘Freydel!’ Coronos replied in shock, instantly recognising the Wizard’s voice, though he had not heard it in over twenty-five years. ‘I have not long, friend, and it is dangerous. Do you have her? Do you have the Raven Child? Is she safe?’
‘Indeed it is dangerous. Yes, the Raven Child is with us, she is safe. There is much we must speak of. Come to us, Coronos,’ Freydel replied.
A terrible screeching sound cut through their line. Coronos grimaced as pain ripped through his mind and something powerful and corrupt entered their Flow. With great effort he tore himself away, released The Flow, and forced an end to the communication. He covered the orb with shaking hands and glanced up at Cusap’anth.
‘Keteth,’ he gasped.
The Karalanth nodded grimly and stroked the ruffled owl, ‘Keteth is too powerful to touch even here...’ ‘I ended The Flow in time, we are still safe but I will not return here,’ Coronos said and told the Karalanth what he had seen.
‘I shall send her to your friend,’ Cusap’anth said, indicating to the owl. ‘She will confirm your friend’s safety if nothing more. She will rest little and return in three or so nights if it is to Celene she is headed.’ Coronos nodded, intrigued. The owl launched herself gracefully off Cusap’anth’s arm, circling upwards until she cleared the trees and disappeared to the south and west.
‘I’ll have to find five fat juicy rats for her now,’ Cusap’anth said with a distasteful look.
Coronos laughed, ‘Thank you, it means a lot.’
The Karalanth looked at him sombrely, ‘I must apologise, Dragon Rider,’ he gestured to the egg shaped lump on Coronos’s head. Coronos touched it gingerly, it still hurt but the swelling was reducing. He smiled wanly.
‘Asaph would surely have died by now had you not found us.’
‘He still might, Draxian. Woetala protect him,’ he said and made a symbol of protection in the air. ‘Come, let us return home and sleep.’
Coronos nodded vigorously, looking forward to his bed already.
The morning dawned windy, dull and heavy with rain, a sharp contrast to the warm clear night earlier. Asaph’s condition had not changed and seemed to worsen at one point as he struggled in another nightmare, sweating and gasping and twisting his sheets around him.
Coronos and Triest’anth did their best to keep him cool and wipe the sweat from his brow, feeding him water and broth when he was calmer. Worry etched itself deep into Coronos’s heart and he struggled to find sleep again that night.
The hours dragged into days and Asaph’s state fluctuated alarmingly. His wounds now oozed a greenish sickly puss that they could not seem to stem. He was deathly pale and when he opened his eyes they were unseeing and bulged from his gaunt face. Frustration ate away at Coronos as he paced the room ceaselessly whilst Triest’anth made another poultice.
‘It has been three days and still she does not show, she likely never will!’ Fatigue shortened his temper and strained his reason. ‘He will die soon if she does not come! He grows weaker by the hour, he cannot fight forever, and soon Keteth will take him completely,’ he tugged on his beard as he paced the floor, ‘and we do nothing but wait!’
‘Please, my friend. I understand your frustration but it cannot help him,’ Triest’anth reasoned, trying to calm him.
Coronos dropped his head and stopped pacing, ‘I am sorry, truly I am, I just feel so helpless.’
Asaph’s wounds were slowly killing him. They were infected with a sickness that ate away at the mind as it killed the flesh. It was a poison they could not hope to cure. As he lost the fight for his soul the Dragon within him grew weak as well and his body began to waste and fade. Whilst his body fought the poison his soul fought another battle. He drifted in a muddled consciousness as the fever burned inside, every cell afire with fever, even his mind raged with a terrible heat.
Through gaps in the pain came strange twisted dreams that he did not understand. Keteth and Issa dominated them. Keteth laughed at him, white lips pulled back over endless rows of sharp teeth. That laugh echoed around his skull. In his thick white
tentacles he held Issa, bruised and bleeding and then he was devouring her, her blood spilling over his putrid white flesh. His eyes bore into Asaph, grinning, mocking, sucking him into those black pits and draining his soul. Asaph tried to reach her but he never could and was too weak. His howl died silently in his throat and then she was gone.
Between nightmares and pain he flittered and all the time he felt his strength draining away, taking reality along with it. Sometimes his mind seemed to clear. He looked up into the frowning face of an older man with brown eyes and huge antlers atop his head. He thought Coronos stood beside the deer man and called to him, but the vision blurred and he drifted once more. He knew he should remember what had happened but could not.
He was so tired, so desperately tired, and yet he could not rest for now something terrible chased him. Issa’s face floated before him and he reached for her, called her name but she was always out of reach and his voice was just a whisper. Seeing her gave him strength and reminded him why he fought, but the fire came again and pain engulfed him, wiping away her image.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Mid Summer Celebration
Mid Summer Celebration was a raucous affair of eating, drinking, music and laughing. There were lords in fancy ruffles and ladies in low cut sequined dresses with huge bustles that prevented anybody from getting too close to them. Their many jewels sparkled in the sun and their hair was piled so high Issa wondered what kept it up.
‘The current high fashion of Frayon is really over the top if you ask me,’ Ely whispered sideways to Issa as they mingled in the bustling crowd.
‘I don’t know how they can walk in all that and in this heat,’ Issa grinned.
Besides the rich and of high status there were servants from the Castle Elune and many others from the personal entourage of the lords and ladies. There were brightly coloured jesters complete with funny hats of all shapes and sizes, many with tinkling bells on. Their faces were either masked or highly painted and all wore long curly shoes that made Issa wonder again how they walked in them. Given the clumsy antics they were performing, she deduced that they could not, in fact, walk in them.
