‘There is something about you that I recognise deeply,’ he said, rubbing his clean-shaven chin.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked. He didn’t answer immediately so she looked out of the window at the streets, noting how dirty and crumbling they were. Perhaps proximity to the sea eroded stone faster here than in other cities. The architecture itself was rather ornate and would have been stunning once. Most buildings had beautifully carved cornices with inlaid sculptures of people and animals adorning the roofs. Ironwork decorated otherwise plain brick walls and delicate gates and chains marked the boundaries between houses and the street.
People lurked in dark, narrow alleys, their hats pulled low. Tramps and drunks sat or lay on the steps of boarded up houses. Issa wanted to jump out and kick open the door so they could at least shelter inside. But Teramides didn’t care. Twice she heard someone yelling ‘Stop!’ but peering through the window she only glimpsed a street urchin running before disappearing down one of the dark alleys, no doubt with someone’s stolen purse.
She compared the city to Corsolon. Teramides was certainly bigger and had an older, more crumbling feel to it. She decided she liked its rugged beauty, fancy architecture, its dirt and its grime. It had a darker side to it whilst Corsolon was pristine and almost stuck up. Corsolon had never really known hardship, Teramides knew everything about backbreaking labour and low pay, of over-population and street crime—things which seemed mostly non-existent in Corsolon. Oddly, she liked it here. She could hide, she could plan, and she could move more easily as a stranger along its bursting streets.
She looked back at Domenon who still hadn’t answered. He genuinely seemed perplexed.
‘If your mother was a seer as you say she was, then I will have known her. If she was on Myrn, that is,’ said Domenon.
Issa stared harder out of the window, chewing a finger. Not my secret to tell. She reminded herself of what Sheyengetha had told her. But the desire to know more about her parents was overwhelming.
Domenon squinted at her. ‘Something isn’t right. When I try to imagine what your mother might have looked like, all I get is fog, as if a spell has been cast over me.’ The wizard frowned and Issa swallowed.
I cannot reveal their secret to him, it would endanger their lives as well as mine. Had he been there that night they’d cast the spell? Is that why he couldn’t remember? What harm could telling him do? She knew about her parents now, what more was there to know by talking to this untrustworthy wizard about them? He might know where they went or where they are now.
‘Well, if you remember them, I’d love to know,’ she forced herself to say.
‘There are certain spells that open up our childhood memories, you know,’ he said. ‘Within our minds are all our memories of everything that had ever happened to us. The only problem is the pathways to those memories gets corroded and lost with time. A hypnotic spell can reforge those pathways. It’s fairly straightforward and painless if you would like to try it.’
‘I don’t like the sound of hypnosis, of not being in control of who I am or what I’m experiencing,’ she said. She felt hypnosis was dangerous too, opening the mind to let just anything in.
‘As you wish.’ Domenon shrugged, though his frown deepened.
‘Why didn’t you ask the Wizards’ Circle before you were made Second Keeper?’ she asked.
He grinned genuinely at her. ‘Miss Issa, you forget yourself. I am a Master Wizard. No one can tell me what to do. And besides, they would have said no, as they always have done, stifling my growth and my power at every turn.’
‘Soon, no one will have any orbs,’ she said. ‘They will be combined to return the life-magic of Maioria back to its natural, powerful state.’
‘How are you so sure that is what should be done?’ said Domenon.
‘Because that is the natural state of things, and all things desire to return to their natural state one way or another.’
‘I can see the seers have been teaching you,’ he muttered and looked out of the window, falling into a moody silence.
The road wound up the hill towards the palace. It opened up into wider streets and emptied of people. Here there were larger shops with fancy, colourful or polished wares on display in their windows. Carved steps led up to bars and restaurants with ornate signs. On their doorsteps stood burly, well-dressed men ready to keep out any ruffians or pickpockets.
As the dusk deepened, a handful of men carrying ladders began to light the tall lanterns lining the main street. The palace loomed into view and they entered its grounds through a huge gateway. It was even more impressive in size this close up. The smaller buildings were constructed of pale red brick and turreted roofs. These turned into medium buildings of the same design until they came to the main section.
Being square, the main building was more castle-like, so Issa thought. It stood three stories high with one round turret to each of the four corners, reminding her of Freydel’s study on Celene, only these conical roofs were covered in grey slate and not windowed to the stars. A swathe of pale grey steps led up to the entrance; a black double-door with a huge, shining, brass knocker. Outside it, two guards stood to attention, hands on their swords, eyes staring straight ahead but missing nothing.
Their carriage ground loudly on the white shingled road. When it stopped by the entrance, Issa realised how noisy it had been. A servant or butler opened the carriage door and she took his hand and stepped out. Domenon followed and the butler bowed to him.
‘Greetings, Master Wizard Domenon.’
‘Good evening, Eveson. Nice to see you again,’ said the Master Wizard as he swept up the steps. ‘Please have the servants bring our packs and saddlebags. The horses can be stabled with the others. Careful with that black stallion.’ Several servants appeared and began unloading the carriages at his command. Issa was reminded how much power the Master Wizard had here in Davono.
‘I’ll take him,’ Issa said as a servant went towards Duskar. The man nodded dutifully and she untied Duskar’s harness from the carriage. He snuffled her thigh.
‘Ah, there you are, Master Wizard Domenon.’ A rather fat, balding man appeared at the entrance. His straggly grey hair was swept over his head in a vain attempt to hide his baldness, and his moustache was short and bushy. He had a humorous face and stood at least six feet tall—uncommon for a Davonian—and wore a simple, royal blue suit with a white shirt underneath.
The man came to stand at the top of the steps, took out his glasses and squinted down at the new arrivals. ‘Queen Thora warned me that you might make a visit. I’m sure my cousin’s spies are everywhere for they said you would indeed arrive today.’
‘Duke Beddan, how good it is to see you and thank you for accepting us into your home,’ said Domenon, shaking the man’s hand.
Issa was surprised that the wizard could turn up unannounced and assume hospitality for several guests.
‘Elves, I see,’ Beddan nodded approvingly. ‘Well, this is quite an honour.’
He squinted at Issa and she felt like a horse being measured up. ‘And who is this? Interesting clothing—intimidating for sure. Hmm, my-my, she’s certainly of Tusarzan heritage.’
Issa arched her eyebrows, surprised at the man’s observance.
‘This is Lady Issa,’ said Domenon.
The Duke walked down the steps, bowed and kissed her hand, tickling it with his moustache.
‘Greetings, Lady Issa—or is it the Raven Queen? We’ve heard so much about you,’ Beddan said, straightening.
‘Only good things, I hope,’ said Issa. The Duke smiled indulgently and winked, making her laugh.
‘We will only stay one night then we must be off to Rebben, to see the Queen,’ said Domenon.
‘Why, of course—Ah, High Wizard Haelgon! We are doubly honoured and shall have a banquet!’
The Atalanph wizard smiled as he exited the carriage. He clasped the duke’s outstretched hand. ‘Good to see you, Duke Beddan. It’s been many years.’
‘I’ll t
ake him, my Queen Issa,’ said Velonorian, taking Duskar’s reins from her hands. Issa waited for the horse to protest but the young elf again whispered in Elven to him. Duskar pricked his ears forwards and snorted as if he had just heard a joke.
Issa smiled. ‘I forget elves have a greater affinity to creatures than us mere humans.’
Velonorian winked and followed the other stable boys.
Inside, the palace was equally impressive and spotlessly clean. White and teal marbled tiles swathed the floors. High ceilings sported ornate coving, and impossibly large crystal chandeliers dangled above. Two young, female servants approached, dropped their eyes and curtsied before Issa. They wore simple, white and blue dresses and blue kerchiefs covering their hair.
‘They will show you to your room, it’s one of the best,’ said the Duke, smiling at her and nodding to the huge staircase with a gold-painted bannister flowing up from the entrance hall. ‘And then we’ll have a dinner fit for a queen.’ He winked.
The wizards and elves were soon surrounded by several male servants who led them in different directions to their rooms. Only Domenon remained, talking with the duke in Davonian. Issa didn’t understand the somewhat clipped tongue as she followed the servants up the stairs. They led her along wide corridors with cherry wood floorboards and white walls adorned with pictures of stately looking people.
Her room was so huge it made her gasp. The rounded walls on the far side told her she was in one of the turrets. There was a four-poster bed, a chaise lounge and a couch all upholstered in beautiful, flower-covered fabric. Great windows on two sides revealed the darkening sky. Her bags were, miraculously, already laid out beside the couch. The ladies busied themselves drawing shut the heavy curtains and drapes and lighting the lanterns. A fire already crackled in the hearth making the room warm and welcoming.
‘Would your ladyship like a bath? We can have it brought to you immediately before supper,’ enquired the youngest looking servant.
‘I’d like that very much,’ Issa beamed.
They curtsied and hurried out of the room.
Barely moments had passed when two large men entered, sweating and panting as they carried a shining copper bath into the room under the direction of the servants.
18
Interdimensional Metaphysics
WITH a deep and satisfied sigh, Issa sank deeper into the copper bath which was filled to the brim with hot water.
She gently blew the soap bubbles off her fingers and watched them float back down. Her thoughts filled with Asaph and she wished he were here, bathing with her. The memory of his hand on her breast made her blush. The feeling of their marks touching and igniting so powerfully within the Flow …what had happened? She wanted it to happen again.
Where was he now? Was he safe and warm? After a thought, she reached over the side of the bath and pulled out the water orb from its sack. It glimmered in her wet hand.
‘Asaph,’ she whispered, staring into its swirling turquoise surface and feeling magic move.
The orb turned dark and an endless ocean appeared beneath her. The sky was pale as if the sun had just risen or set. The image began to flicker and fade. She sighed. He must be a long way away. Perhaps he was still flying and using cloaking magic. She prayed he was all right.
Cupping the orb in her hands, her thoughts turned to Freydel and Ayeth. She chewed her lip. Could she travel back in time and to a different planet like Freydel had? Surely all the orbs held the same power. Could she trust Freydel to do what he must to stop Ayeth and protect Maioria? Was it even possible to change their timeline by going into the past? She had a feeling that it wasn’t. There were too many unknowns and she was too frightened to try.
‘Ayeth,’ she whispered into the orb then held her breath.
Slowly, the strange being’s image formed. His alien golden skin, huge slanted eyes and long aquiline face mesmerised her.
‘Chosen by Zanufey,’ she breathed. Was that what would happen to her if she failed, if she succumbed to the powers of the fallen? She shivered as she thought about the black-eyed woman.
‘Lona,’ she whispered her name.
A flawless, white face formed in the orb—beautiful but cruel, as if hate lingered there, barely hidden. Issa stared at the alien woman, in awe. Her onyx-black eyes opened wide and gleamed. …As black as the Dark Rift. She’s the one who caused his downfall.
“The eyes are the windows to the soul,” Zanufey had said. Was Lona’s soul black like her eyes? She didn’t doubt that Ayeth loved her, but as she looked into Lona’s face it was clear the being could not love, not properly. Issa stared harder, willing Lona’s eyes to reveal her secrets. The woman didn’t want Ayeth’s help or to be healed, she only wanted his power.
Why would anyone not want help when they were sick and suffering? Baelthrom was sick but he certainly didn’t want help. Neither did any of his evil hordes of Maphraxies. The very thought of them asking for help made her laugh. They were beyond help. Any creature who was too sick to be healed and a danger to others had to be destroyed. Ayeth would have to destroy Lona before she became too powerful. And he will not be able to do it because he loves her. Therefore, the timeline cannot be changed.
The truth hit Issa like a hammer-blow—nothing would be able to convince Ayeth that Lona was evil and beyond help. Not even his own people had managed to do that—so an outsider like Freydel certainly wouldn’t be able to do it.
Issa sunk deeper in the bath, still holding the turquoise orb. She gazed at Ayeth and Lona pictured within, a very tall being and a small and slight being. She didn’t doubt that the Yurgharon had been good once. Evil had been done to them too, hurting them and twisting them. Domination, fear, and revenge was what made a being fall.
The Rorsken and Anukon may have been beings of light but they, too, turned. Evil was like an infection spreading. How far back did it go? It was an eternal question, one she would have to ask Zanufey.
Was the same thing happening to Freydel? Was he becoming blinded by the good being that Ayeth was and all the power he was teaching him? He was devoted to his teacher whom he thought could still be saved, but it seemed the wizard would not be able to change what was going to happen. Forget about stopping Ayeth—she had to stop Freydel before he was in too deep. His orb was in terrible danger. She had to tell him immediately.
‘Orb of Water, scry for me Master Wizard Freydel,’ she said and watched the orb expectantly as magic moved through it. She entered the Flow and, through the orb, started searching for Freydel. The orb, in the presence of its water element, was stronger and its magic purer. It was easy to reach Freydel’s study in Carvon but only an empty room filled with his scrolls and maps formed on the surface of the orb. He wasn’t there. She focused her mind on his house in Myrn and swiftly it appeared but it, too, was empty.
Frowning, she wiped the steaming condensation off the orb. It was unlikely he would be blocking her. Could he have gone to Ayeth again? The thought made her shiver. How often did he meet with the Aralan? Travelling over such vast distances was going to destroy him physically and mentally long before Ayeth would have a thought to hurt him.
She pulled more on the Flow and concentrated harder, closing her eyes so she could better see the magic. Waves of light moved around her and she felt her mind lifting with it as the orb searched for Freydel.
Outwards, beyond the dimensional field of Maioria, it reached. She felt dreamy as it moved through the Astral Planes where everything was pastel ribbons of light. It seemed to know where he had gone, following his trail as if he’d left a scent along the way.
No, it’s not following Freydel, but where the other orb has gone, she realised. It began to reach far beyond the Ethereal Planes and she pulled back, fearful of going too far and losing herself. The orb tried to pull her on but she resisted. She could have ended the search with a command but intrigue dampened her caution.
Something caught a hold of her and the orb, dragging them sideways. Cold darkness flowed over her
as if she’d been swimming and suddenly entered a cold patch of water. She felt the faint presence of another consciousness.
‘Return now,’ Issa commanded, sitting upright with her eyes still closed. Something had detected them and was trying to latch on. The orb did not respond. Its magic became faint.
The darkness gathered in the distance and began to form into giant, humanoid shapes. The shapes turned and stalked towards her through a grey fog. Issa’s heart leapt into her throat and she tried to see outside of the Flow but her consciousness was trapped within it.
The beings were at least ten feet tall. Black, wispy veils covered them from head to foot and billowed like smoke. She could see no faces. They reminded her of the wraiths in the Shadowlands only these were much bigger, faceless, and they could clearly see her.
The cold thrill of impending danger shot down her spine as the figures clustered around her, moving on feet she couldn’t see. They communicated with each other in garbled tones that reminded Issa of a toad’s croak only deeper. Over the top of this, at the periphery of her hearing, she became aware of other noises, horrible grating sounds overlaid with moaning voices that were too low to be human. They grew louder until the awful noise vibrated right through her, making her heart thump erratically.
She tried not to listen to the voices but the harrowing grating noise of metal scraping on metal at different pitches was the opposite of harmony. The din was chaos, scattering her senses and fragmenting her thoughts.
Her fear showed itself by forming cold beads of sweat on her face. Her breath came fast and shallow, filling her lungs with air that was cold, wet, and clammy as her strength drained. The enormous beings towered before her, their long heads lost behind black veils. They spoke in dark whispering, slithering voices and now Issa was able to understand what they were saying.
‘One of them has come.’
‘Trap it before it gets away.’
‘Follow it to find its home.’
Dragons of the Dawn Bringer: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 5 Page 22
