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

by A. Evermore

  Asaph resumed his human form and drew his own sword in one swift moment. If his flames did not burn then perhaps it would be better to fight with his sword.

  ‘Let us fight, man to man,’ Asaph growled. It somehow seemed more honourable.

  The Dromoorai said nothing, reacted to nothing. Only came on, fearless, unreadable.

  I’ll kill this human abomination as a human and end their sordid lives as they have ended others!

  It raised its sword and Asaph raised his. Sword struck sword in a resounding clash of metal grinding upon metal. Asaph staggered under the Dromoorai’s blow, its strength was frightening, but his own fury and sense of victory after killing the Dread Dragon gave him confidence and strength. He managed to shove the claymore back. He stepped away and scanned his opponent’s armour, looking for any weakness. It has to be weaker without its dragon. But any weakness that he could find was woefully absent.

  Their swords rose and fell again. He deflected another crushing blow with a slice and a duck, recovering his lighter weapon swiftly. He stabbed at the Dromoorai’s side where he thought the armour might be weaker and ground between the plates. The Dromoorai grunted in surprise, its eyes turned black and it fell back. Unlike the Dread Dragon the Dromoorai’s blood was watery and grey and it gushed over Asaph’s sword as he yanked it free.

  The man-beast is only half a being, its blood is weak like water, yet it is as strong as a bear.

  ‘Give yourself to me, the Immortal Lord owns you in the end,’ the Dromoorai’s voice was gravelly and it spoke without lips. That it spoke took Asaph by surprise. He hesitated, wondering if there was something to be saved within it. As soon as he thought it he dismissed it, you cannot reason with these bastards, there is nothing to reason with, they are long gone. Asaph laughed but as he did so the amulet whispered to him.

  ‘Join your brothers and sisters. Great power awaits you and a life untouched by death,’ the words wrapped around him like silk and he found himself straining to hear more.

  ‘Come to us. You will be king.’

  He felt suddenly weak as he listened. It is draining my strength, I must not look at it or listen to it! He tore his eyes away from the glowing blood stone and lunged left then right, driving the Dromoorai back. But it was strong and deflected many of his blows without tiring, if indeed it could tire!

  The claymore swung fast and he narrowly dodged the blow. I am dressed in only soft clothes whereas it is encased in metal! He ruefully glanced down at his woven breeches and then back at the thick black metal armour encasing the Dromoorai. If it lands a blow I am finished! He felt fuzziness in the air, charged like static. Magic!

  Without his dragon’s abilities to see magic he was at another disadvantage. I should resume my dragon form! There came a clap like thunder and without moving the Dromoorai was inches from him and knocking him to the ground. In less than a second he was pinned beneath the Dromoorai’s boot. It towered over him crushing his sword arm beneath a metal encased foot, the other foot crushed down upon his chest.

  Asaph tried to keep a grip on his sword but it was agony and in the end he was forced to let go. With his left arm he tried to dislodge the boot from his chest but it was like trying to move solid rock. He gasped for breath and kicked up as hard as he could but his soft boots thumped uselessly into that black iron armour and hurt his own feet instead. He was doing more damage to himself than to the thing that was about to kill him. The metal boot crushed harder on his arm. It took all he had to bite back a cry of pain. I’ll show no pain to this bastard!

  Red eyes and the swinging red amulet burned into his own. Something corrupt and awful pressed upon his mind and he fought to keep it out.

  ‘The last of the Dragon Lords struggles before me, as they all have,’ the Dromoorai growled. His voice was low and airy like the wind whistling through dead leaves.

  Asaph’s anger shut out the agony. ‘You killed your own kin, you bastard! I am here to avenge them,’ he snarled between clenched teeth.

  How can I avenge them? I’m as good as dead already! He looked to his sword but there was no way of reaching it. He knew the Dromoorai wanted him alive to be turned into one of them. He would die rather than let that happen. It seemed the Dromoorai was waiting for instructions from whatever that evil red stone was connected to.

  Asaph considered his limited options rapidly. I have a knife, but it is tiny. Just a small knife he used as a cutting tool and it was tucked away inside a pocket on his thigh. It had been so long since he used it he wondered if it was even sharp anymore.

  ‘We were betrayed,’ he gasped through the pain of his crushed arm and the now throbbing burn on his back from the claymore wound. ‘You are slaves to a greedy vengeful bastard who has enslaved your soul and cares nothing for you!’ He struggled to free his trapped arm again despite the pain, using the movement as a distraction whilst his other hand fumbled for the knife.

  The Dromoorai laughed, a hollow sound that made Asaph shudder. ‘We were saved from our own pitiful existence. Your deceiving goddess denied us our true power. The Immortal Lord has set us free, given us powers beyond anything thought possible in this world.’

  ‘You murdered my people, our people! Traitor!’ Asaph screamed, his voice hoarse.

  The knife was at his finger tips but then it shifted and fell from his grasp. He fumbled for it again as the Dromoorai bent closer until those soulless red eyes were only a few inches from his face, swirling red orbs that were otherwise empty and soulless. He finally managed to get a grip on the knife and pulled it free of its sheath. Those red eyes were burning into his, sweat trickled down his face and his head pounded in that awful red light. He could feel the amulet burning into his chest, leaching the life from him.

  ‘You will become one of us. Even the Dragon Queen herself begged to be made one of us as our Lord destroyed her.’

  In one swift motion Asaph ripped the knife upwards and plunged it through the amulet dangling just above his chest, the only part of the Dromoorai he could reach. The knife buckled under the blow and there came a crack from the rock.

  The Dromoorai lurched backwards off his arm and chest. The amulet cracked and then exploded as latent magic was released. Asaph grabbed his sword with his good arm and staggered to his feet, falling towards the Dromoorai as it fell back in shock. He plunged his sword into those red burning eyes and drove forwards hard.

  The Dromoorai gasped an awful sucking sound and stumbled onto its back, pulling Asaph down with it. The gasping turned to a high pitched wail so piercing Asaph let go of his sword and rolled away covering his ears. It thrashed on the ground violently and its watery grey blood gushed into the earth. The screams stopped abruptly, it lay stock still and its eyes went dull.

  Asaph staggered to his feet cradling his crushed arm. It was still whole but very bruised, fractured or broken, and bloody. He felt his back. There was a long shallow cut stinging with unholy magic. Luckily he had been in dragon form when he took that, he thought, otherwise the blow would have severed his soft human spine. It hurt but it could be fixed by Triest’anth and Coronos, he was sure of it.

  In the stunned silent aftermath of the ferocious battle Asaph looked upon his dead enemies, two black shapes in the growing darkness. Steam still rose from their bodies. All that was left of his Dragon Lord kin. He looked, too, upon his own demise should the Immortal Lord succeed. The bodies were beginning to collapse, as if they were melting into the ground. They were decaying swiftly for they were long dead, mere walking shells instilled with unholy life.

  Some idea of immortality, Asaph snorted.

  He reached down to the Dromoorai and pulled the shattered amulet free. The broken stone was now pitch black and so cold to the touch it burned. It still felt as if it were sucking the life out of him. Hastily he wrapped it in his sword’s polishing cloth and stuffed it into his pocket. As his pulse finally slowed and the adrenaline in his blood ceased pounding, calm returned.

  Issa!

  Chapter 45

/>   The Warrior Within

  ASAPH looked frantically about him in the dim light and ran over to where the dark mound of the Life Seeker lay. He reached Issa at the same time as the bloodied and bewildered karalanths did. He sunk down beside her, she was barely conscious, her hand still trapped in the decaying stinking skull of the Life Seeker. He cradled her head gently in his hands.

  ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,’ he whispered, stroking the hair from her face.

  Her eyes flickered open and she smiled weakly up at him, too weak to speak. Coronos knelt beside him, the Orb of Air in his trembling hand, milky white in the darkness. The old man took hold of her trapped arm and whispered words Asaph did not understand in his human form. The orb grew brighter and a subtle shimmer of magic sparkled in the air. The Life Seeker’s skull gave a sickening crack and her hand fell free, together with the knife that she still grasped firmly and bloody black gore. The karalanths set about washing and wiping it off, grimaces on their faces.

  ‘You came in time,’ she whispered, ‘that is enough,’ she smiled, her eyes were a strange brilliant turquoise. Asaph looked at Coronos worriedly.

  ‘She has used too much of the Flow,’ Triest’anth explained, peering over Coronos' shoulder.

  Coronos nodded in agreement, a frown creasing his forehead. ‘Through the orb I can feel her life force stronger in the Flow than in the physical world. But there is nothing I can do to help her.’

  ‘If she did not have Zanufey on her side I would doubt she could recover from such overuse of magic. But do not worry, friend, the Night Goddess is with her. I am most certain she will be all right,’ Triest’anth smiled weakly.

  Issa looked at her bruised and bloodied arm and winced. Asaph grinned and held up his own crushed and bloody arm.

  ‘Snap,’ he said.

  She laughed and then passed out. Asaph tried to pick her up but his arm was not strong enough.

  ‘Let me,’ Grast’anth insisted, and he picked her up easily. She looked so small and fragile in his huge arms.

  ‘Come, we must tend to your wounds also,’ Coronos said solemnly, putting an arm around his adopted son. ‘She needs a long rest, trust me.’

  Asaph nodded, suddenly feeling horribly weary.

  ‘Many karalanths lost their lives today,’ Coronos said quietly as they made their way back to the village.

  Asaph looked away, not knowing what to say. Those that lived were busy covering the dead with blankets. There was already a pile of rotting death hounds, far outnumbering the blanketed bodies of the fallen karalanths. It offered some respite.

  Many houses were damaged and had huge holes in their soft mud based walls. Food and crockery was strewn everywhere and over everything were bright red spots of blood and smears of black blood. No one spoke as the karalanths quickly restored order to their village with solemn faces. No one was idle, not even the children as they helped their parents in silence. They laid the bodies around a hastily constructed smouldering pyre in the village centre.

  Asaph hung his head, dreading to know if he might have known some of the fallen, knowing it was likely. ‘I have brought nothing but death here,’ he sighed heavily, he had not meant for this to happen.

  ‘That is nonsense,’ Triest’anth said hoarsely, ‘this was coming whether or not you were here, it only came sooner rather than later. The foltoy have been sniffing around us for years now and their numbers are growing. If it were not for you and her we would not have survived such an attack.’

  ‘It is us that brought them here,’ Asaph replied staring at the ground.

  ‘The Maphraxies will not stop attacking even if they capture the last Dragon Lord and the Raven Queen herself. They will never stop until all of us have fallen to them, until all of us walk a living death as one of them. They will not stop until the One Source of All is crushed beneath the Immortal Lord’s feet. Many times now we have seen Baelthrom’s Death Hounds and foltoy sneaking through the forest, reporting to their Master. Even the harpies grow more daring and fly low over our lands, unheard of this far into Frayon,’ Triest’anth said.

  ‘Triest’anth is right, Asaph. The Maphraxies will plague all nations and none is safe from them. You cannot blame yourself,’ Coronos said, squeezing his shoulder. ‘And yet, perhaps it is time we left, they are hunting us and we can draw them away from here whilst you rebuild your homes,’ he said to Triest’anth.

  ‘This was just one small battle today, no doubt the first of many. They will come again, of that we can be sure,’ Triest’anth replied as they walked. ‘I think the time has now come for all of us karalanths to re-unite, that way we will be stronger. Maybe we should even join with the Feylint Halanoi and all those that call themselves Free Peoples of Maioria, for in unity there is power. But I severely doubt any karalanth will ever willingly join forces with the dwarves amongst the Feylint Halanoi. Yet if we do not then I think we are doomed,’ Triest’anth said, speaking quietly as if he didn’t want his musings to be overheard by other karalanths.

  ‘But on a lighter note,’ the old karalanth glanced at Asaph, his greying beard and pale antlers catching the light of the bonfire, ‘the last Dragon Lord has returned to the world so there is hope. The dark moon rising proves that the goddess is with us. Perhaps under the heir to the throne of Drax we could all unite, unite all the Free Peoples of Maioria.’

  The look in Triest’anth’s eyes and the weight he suddenly placed upon his shoulders felt enough to break him. All the thoughts he had had earlier about uniting the people with the Feylint Halanoi now seemed such a huge impossible task.

  ‘That is what we all need, to be united, but how it can be done I have no idea. We were lucky to survive that last attack. We only barely did so,’ Asaph said wiping his eyes with his good hand and smearing dirt across his sweaty brow.

  ‘With the Raven Queen at your side, you will find a way. I’ve never been so sure about anything than I am about this. The world needs a powerful symbol to unite under. A Dragon Lord returns, the dark moon rises, the Raven Queen is chosen by Zanufey… This is exactly what the people need to rise up under. You bring a bright dawn, Asaph the Dawn Bringer.’ Asaph coloured and Triest’anth smiled at the young man.

  Perhaps it was the thrill and near death experience of the fighting that made the old karalanth speak so profoundly. The vicious battle had certainly made them all aware of how perilous their lives were now.

  ‘There will be many battles ahead and dark times, but stay close to her and she to you. We have a chance to end the immortal bastard’s reign over us,’ Triest’anth said. He must have glimpsed Asaph’s worried frown for his solemn face broke again into a warm smile. Asaph nodded but said nothing. He was tired, far too tired to think anymore.

  The bodies covered in blankets were still being brought to the now flaming pyre and laid gently on the ground. Triest’anth went to help a karalanth struggling under the weight of a large deer-man. Asaph didn’t know who it was, didn’t want to know. He only hoped whoever it was took many death hounds with him before he died.

  ‘We will pray to Zanufey to lead our dead into Woetala’s peaceful endless forests. They died a warrior’s death and there is no greater glory than that,’ Grast’anth said gruffly, blinking back tears as he threw some logs on the base of the pyre. ‘Finally the war has come to us and we must strengthen our minds and our bodies and our hearts.’

  There was nothing that Asaph could say. Seeing the dead washed away any sense of victory from Asaph’s mind and replaced it with a horrible gut-wrenching sadness. Victory was not supposed to feel like this, he thought. Not only had he fought and killed one of his brethren, killing a Dromoorai and its Dread Dragon was not something he thought he would ever be able to do, many karalanths had lost their lives in a fight that they should not have had to fight. Maybe Coronos sensed what he was feeling, or maybe it was just coincidence, but he tried to ease Asaph’s sadness.

  ‘Dromoorai are not one of us, Asaph. Their souls are long gone and whatever inhabits tho
se two bodies is not human or dragon. The goddess only knows what it is. Do not think you killed your own today. Think of it as setting them free, whatever it is within them, free from a life of slavery serving Baelthrom and killing countless innocents. I saw you fight today, I would have joined if I could.’ Coronos showed him his own bound arm that seeped blooded through the bandage.

  Asaph only smiled weakly and drove back the tears.

  Issa knew someone carried her exhausted body, but her eyes were so blurred with fatigue she could not see who it was that held her. She drifted somewhere between reality and the swirling energies of the Flow. It was as if she had used so much of the Flow that she was somehow trapped in it, floating on a sea of purple and blue with no ability to control her direction or her thoughts.

  She focused on the battle as a way to somehow anchor herself in reality. The Dromoorai came, I could see Baelthrom in that awful red amulet… Then there was a ball of golden fire that took it away. Asaph is the golden fire. She relived the battle absently, making sense of what had happened. A golden dragon… I have never seen anything fight with such passion, such fury that no lifeless immortal could match. He fights in revenge, as do I.

  The karalanths were dying as she fought the Life Seeker alone. Her subconscious mind had felt their souls leaving, each soul was a star shooting across a night sky, leaving the mortal world to return once more to the One Source. Beloved Zanufey lead your children home…

  In the Flow dark blue swirled and became an indistinct figure. Issa turned her focus upon it, felt herself smile as a feeling of love surrounded her. She seemed to move above the Flow then for her consciousness moved up and everything fell away, including the pain of her physical body.