The Fall Of Celene (The Prophecies of Zanufey Book 2)

by A. Evermore

  ‘I don’t want to be king of anything at all. All I want is to see Drax again and avenge my people, avenge my mother for what that bastard did to her. Being king means nothing to me, I’d sooner forget about it.’ His mother’s face floated in his mind, her flame red hair matched by her fiery spirit. Her body and soul ravaged and destroyed by Baelthrom. The pity in Cusap’anth’s face angered him further and he closed his eyes trying to control the awakening dragon within.

  ‘We both have lost our lands to that enemy, my friend. Do not forget that. Though few of us now remain, we will fight until the death to take back what was ours. One day karalanths will rule the west of Venosia and it will be called Karalanthia once more! We don’t care if the dwarves are on our side or not, the lands west of the Eryvin Hills will be ours again!’ Passion flared in Cusap’anth’s eyes, softening Asaph’s anger enough to relax him a little.

  ‘Yes, you are right. Ours is a similar story. For me it still feels so raw, I doubt I will ever know peace,’ Asaph let go of the pommel of his sword. The dragon closed its eyes. ‘All the hating and anger can’t change anything unless we act on it. We must all be prepared to take back what is rightfully ours.’

  Cusap’anth said nothing and only nodded. He turned back to the chest and unlocked it with a loud click. He lifted the heavy lid and pulled out a dark leather bound book. He blew the dust off and looked at it for a long moment, then said, ‘Many years ago when we were five times our number and before the Great Divide our people frequently raided the dark dwarves’ strongholds on Venosia.’

  ‘The Great Divide?’ Asaph frowned.

  ‘Such was our persecution that my ancestors decided to split the karalanth peoples into eight groups. Those eight groups would go in different directions and find homes where they could to give our people a chance to survive. The eight groups travelled to different places and there they remain, more or less, to this day.’ Cusap’anth explained.

  ‘To stay in contact both socially and by blood, every now and again we send our young to join our cousins’ clans and they with us so we always remain blood bound and connected. After the Great Divide we no longer raided the dark dwarven territories for it was too far and too costly and, in the end, it gained us nothing. However, it was decided that the young would-be-leader of the tribe should see their homeland and the enemy who had stolen it from us.

  ‘I was one such as these, I was the next appointed leader after my father Triest’anth. I was taken by my father into a raiding party so that I might see the land that was once my home,’ Cusap’anth stared into empty space. ‘Unlike you I have indeed seen my homeland, what was left of it, it is all barren. The trees are sick if they still stand at all. The life-force has been sucked out of the land and everything upon it. Such is as the Immortal Lord wants. He cares nothing of life, of beauty.

  ‘It was a long journey to Venosia and only travelling at night... when we got there we saw many dark dwarves, evil twisted beings. I was very young and very afraid and stuck close to my father. We lost half our raid in the battle, including my grandfather, but slaughtered forty of our foe before they fled the encampment. It was bloody but I became a man that day for I took my first kill.’ Cusap’anth stood proud and tall and grim.

  Asaph listened silently, picturing the battle that Cusap’anth described. Dark dwarves with grey skin and yellow eyes battling karalanths in a vicious struggle.

  ‘We searched through the camp before we burnt it to the ground. It was there that we discovered that Drax had fallen, only a week before for we came across this log,’ he tapped the book. ‘Mostly it is a record of certain events, some important, some not and most known as history to the rest of Maioria. Other sections are simply lists of supplies. A bit like a diary I supposed. But there is a section at the end, detailing an event of such awfulness it took me a week to read it all,’ Cusap’anth’s voice wavered and he looked at Asaph oddly.

  Slowly he passed Asaph the logbook that he really did not want to take. But take it, in the end, he did.

  ‘There are things of which you should know about Drax, though perhaps you will not want to read it.’

  ‘I already know well the story of the fall of Drax. Coronos has told me many times. But I have also seen awful things through The Recollection, the shared memory of dragons and Dragon Lords. My hatred and anger is great because I saw my mother’s end through her own eyes,’ Asaph voice had dropped to almost a whisper as he stared down at the journal. He hated even looking at it, wanted to throw it in the fire and watch it burn.

  ‘Then perhaps you already know all there is to know anyway. Still, it is your right to read the accounts as seen by our enemies. Maybe it will shed new light on things,’ Cusap’anth replied. ‘My friend, I fear the days are darker than we would have liked for even our allies betray us in their lust to taste Maphraxian immortality,’ Cusap’anth said.

  The last comment jolted Asaph alert. Betrayed, as Coronos suspected. But by whom? Cusap’anth placed a firm hand on his shoulder and then he left Asaph alone with the journal.

  Chapter 42

  Vornus The Betrayer

  ASAPH wasn’t sure how long he stared at the leather-bound book in his hands, willing it to tell him what was inside so he wouldn’t have to read it for himself. Finally he seated himself on a cushion beside the cold hearth and opened the book.

  He flicked through the pages. Most were notes; details of food and rations, numbers of ships and weapons and their locations in various places. Now and again there were small snippets of events, mostly unimportant such as the loss of weapons or food gone rotten. He was surprised and disheartened to find the dark dwarf who wrote it showed a good level of literacy with Frayonnese, the Common Tongue, with only the odd dark dwarven runic symbols thrown in. He’d assumed they lacked some fundamental intelligence and could only speak dark dwarven.

  That they spoke Frayonesse at all suggested all their logbooks and shared documents were written in that language. Which suggested they had far more allies than just dark dwarves and Maphraxies. Humans, elves, and of course the bloody harpies. All traitors to us, to freedom!

  He read on for a while, flicking through the pages until he was two thirds through. He paused when he came to a section titled in scrawling letters:

  Age of Immortals; day 45 of Masuma Month. Concerning Drax.

  A Brief Account.

  Coronos had told him that the dark dwarves followed their own calendar, which started when Baelthrom broke free of his prison. It was called The Lost Age to the Feylint Halanoi and the free peoples of Maioria; marking the arrival of Baelthrom and the departure from the Age of the Ancients. He squinted down at the words.

  “We approached the city of Draxa under the cover of the necromancers’ fog. The city was quiet and there were few lights. The fools still slept, unaware, unprepared. We were virtually at the enemies’ gates before the first alarm bellowed out across the city. By then it was too late though they were swift to answer that call. Within minutes Dragons and Dragon Lords had taken to the air. Their fire and fury was devastating but we outnumbered them some three to one.

  Our full force was focused on the eastern gate. The gates-men were slain, the archers destroyed by necromantic fire. By axe and magic the eastern gate exploded and through it we poured into the city. There we met the king, mounted atop a horse along with many other knights. He charged first and last for only death met him. Our superior Maphraxie black-iron axes felled him through his armoured body and through his armoured horse’s body. He did not even take one of our own with him before he went.”

  Asaph closed his eyes, maybe he couldn’t read this. But I have to know, for the sake of my people, for my mother and father, I must know. He forced himself to read on.

  “Having slain the king his body was lost and forgotten under the stamping boots of the victorious Immortals. For it was not the king that Baelthrom hunted. To utterly destroy the Dragon People he had to take their dragon spawn queen and then the rest would fall. It was all to
o easy...”

  There came a pause in the writing and some meaningless scribbles and ink blobs splattered the page. The next writing was in darker ink, as if a new ink bottle had been opened, and the quill was thicker than before, but the handwriting itself was still the same.

  “Of course, the ease with which the city of Draxa was invaded and felled would not have occurred had the powers of our Exalted One not been so desired by humans. Humans are by nature weak willed and weak minded. The barest sniff of power found a traitor running to our door.

  Vornus proved himself to be a trustworthy ally, though Hameka kept the human on a tight leash. Once a traitor always a traitor. It still took many months to create our plan of attack, even with Vornus’s aid. Let us say the consumption of the Elixir served to render his soul most fully to the Exalted One and he is more trustworthy now than ever he was as a human. Such is the power of the Exalted One’s marvellous gifts.”

  Asaph felt the sickness growing within him. Vornus had been second-in-command to his mother for the Draxian armies. Coronos always talked so highly of Vornus, “a strong and courageous man, though quiet and calculating,” he had said. Had Coronos had any clue about Vornus, any clue at all? He very much doubted it and that made it worse. They would never have suspected, human trust was ever a dangerous thing when faced with the immortal invaders.

  Asaph turned back to the book with fervour. On and on he read, faster and faster, gripping the pages so tightly his fingers turned white. Sweat beaded on his face as he learnt how Vornus had betrayed them.

  “The man lied easily and frequently to his King and Queen. Such was their foolish trust, they never suspected a disciple of Baelthrom now walked amongst them. They did not even know when the Maphraxies stepped upon their southern shores. When Draxa fell, traitorous Vornus made his escape before his own people discovered his treachery. Without weakening them from within even we knew Drax could not have fallen...”

  The words misted over as Asaph fought back the tears. Drax could not have fallen… Would not have fallen… He forced himself to read on, squinting through the blur.

  “…[W]e hunted down and slaughtered all the mortal vermin, none could escape our our mighty blades hewn from the black rocks of Maphrax, none could escape the black magic of our necromancers. But there was one we sought above all else, the dragon witch that led them all. In the darkened halls of their crumbling fortress we searched for her lair.

  From Vornus’s list we hunted, enslaved and killed all upon it. No Dragon Lord blood could be left alive to take the throne of Drax ever again. Deep in the castle we found her, the pitiful and wretched Dragon Queen, Queen Pheonis. Baelthrom, hungry for his prize, took her. It was not difficult to break her, weak from childbirth such as she was ...”

  Asaph only just made it outside before he vomited violently. He retched until his stomach hurt and his knees trembled. Only when his convulsions lessened did he stand and go back inside for water. He slurped it down holding the cup with shaking hands. He couldn’t stay inside the house, it was dark and cloying and he could barely breathe. He went back outside to a shaded patch behind the house, away from watching eyes, though the village was quiet.

  Again he forced himself to read the last paragraphs; he would not let her suffer alone and in silence, he would bear this burden with her.

  “It was more than sport for our Exalted One as he ravaged and crushed the Dragon Queen. The Dragon Peoples must be punished for their insolence. Long have they resisted us. Now they must know they are defeated utterly, and never will they rise again. Her cries echoed even beyond this dimension and her soul was ripped to shreds.

  Our Exalted One did not hurry, indeed we have much to learn how our Exalted One keeps the body alive so long under such forces. His blackness seeped into her, forcing her life blood to seep into him, feeding him her power, feeding him her life force in a beautiful exchange. Her babe was certainly slaughtered as all the newborns were. We were all rewarded well that day…”

  Asaph read until the end and though he had already seen glimpses of his mother’s death through her own eyes it broke him once more to read it in his enemies joyous prose. He crouched beside the house, sweat and tears covered his face, his body.

  ‘Vornus still lives. I’ll find him and I’ll kill him or I’ll die trying!’ He vowed under his breath. It was something, but it would never right the wrongs that had been done, he could not bring her back, he could not change the past. His soul was ravaged as her body had been. Silent sobs shook his body as Baelthrom had shaken hers.

  He thought the pain would never go but after a long while the sobs receded and left him with a terrible silence. In that unbroken stillness where thought was clear and true, the actions he decided then were absolute and unstoppable.

  His dragon self, fully awakened by his anger, now indulged in wild thoughts of vengeance wrought in dragon form; of terror and power and fire consuming, burning and destroying the world. Asaph was deeply restless. He did not hear Cusap’anth arrive, did not see the terrible look upon the karalanth’s face, did not even blink when the deer-man’s shadow fell upon him.

  The Dragon Lord did not move, his cold blue eyes stared into some other time and place.

  ‘I am sorry, brother, truly I am. I just hope we live long enough to see the day when we can all take our vengeance, or at least get back what is rightfully ours,’ the karalanth said but Asaph did not look at him, only stared, unseeing, straight ahead.

  ‘I had to know the truth. Maioria has to know the truth. If we weren’t betrayed Drax would not have fallen, we might have had a chance... might have...’

  ‘Perhaps…’ Cusap’anth said sadly, ‘I think it would only have delayed the inevitable... We cannot change what has happened. Pray that Woetala fights for us,’ he added softly and passed to Asaph a flask of water. He took it and drank deeply but refused the offer of food.

  ‘I cannot eat,’ he said and passed back the journal, ‘I think I need to be alone.’

  Cusap’anth nodded respectfully and left the man to his emotions. But Asaph did not sit there for long and instead got up and left the village, neither knowing where he went or caring. Thoughts of Issa were now far from his beleaguered mind and instead he sought the Dragon Dream.

  Triest’anth watched the young men talking from afar, a Dragon Lord and a karalanth leader, an unlikely friendship, a powerful friendship.

  Cusap’anth turned and walked towards him, his face grim, shoulders sagged. Cusap’anth passed to him the journal without saying a word. Triest’anth took the logbook from his son in silence. It was time to destroy someone else, he thought sadly. He turned and began to search the village for Coronos.

  Asaph made his way through the pathless forest, hoping to lose himself in it. It was mid afternoon and hot and humid. Every now and then he clenched his jaw and his hand went to his sword, grasping it until his knuckles turned white and ached. His hard face softened only when tears blurred his vision.

  He walked for hours but heard nothing, saw nothing; not the wind through the leaves, the birds singing in the trees, not even the herd of deer who bounded away, startled by his silent approach. And yet he felt everything; pain, grief, anger, hatred, hopelessness - each emotion scouring him before giving way to the next in a relentless torrent. The only relief from grief he could find was in thoughts of vengeance.

  He was forced to stop his mindless walking when the trees gave way to rocks and revealed a deep ravine that fell away hundred metres below. He leant on one leg and peered over the edge, dislodging a rock as he did so. He watched it tumble into the depths below. An eagle soared above him searching the rocky ravine and forest for a meal.

  Watching it fly made him want to do the same. I need to fly, I need to be dragon. When I’m dragon things are different, in some ways I see more clearly. Grief becomes fury. He closed his eyes. The dragon within was not asleep, it was awake and awaiting his command. In his raw state the dragon form came so easily and naturally he wondered how he had eve
r had difficulty calling it. It filled him like music, beautiful and natural. He felt his small human self grow large and powerful. It was in the change, where man and dragon stood in equal measure, that he felt most complete, that he knew many things. The knowledge of humans and the knowledge of dragons combined.

  He could feel his great size behind closed lizard lids, could feel the enormous strength latent in his muscles, the hot sun warming his iron-strong golden scales, the rumble of fire in his belly and the smoky air in his nostrils. Now he was alive, now he was free!

  Though very young for a Dragon Lord, he felt truly ancient as the blood of his ancestors coursed through his veins. His mind was released from the confines of human thoughts but the unbreakable bond with his Dragon Lord mother remained. Her face comforted him and soothed his aching heart and mind. She could have taught him so much. At least they could not hurt her anymore.

  Were all the Dragon Lords truly gone? The thought disturbed him, particularly in his dragon form. If the Maphraxies could destroy us so easily, was there ever really any hope? The eagle cried a long forlorn cry as if saddened that the golden dragon beneath it had scared off all the food. Asaph didn’t need to open his eyes to see it, he could sense its beating heart within his dragon mind.

  Slowly he opened his eyes and did not even blink in the bright sunlight. Unlike humans dragons could look straight at the sun without being harmed by its brilliant rays. He stretched wide his wings, felt the breeze fill them like filling a ship’s sails, and leapt powerfully into the air. He did not fall but was lifted upwards.