Night Goddess (The Goddess Prophecies Book 1)

by Araya Evermore

  ‘You did not say you were dragon kin, old man. We thought they were long gone. This is important to us,’ he said and turned away, barking a command that sent them leaping at speed through the woods. The blurring jolting landscape made Coronos' head spin even more, and he closed his eyes to keep from vomiting.

  They had been travelling fast for what seemed like forever when Coronos finally felt them slow. His head and body ached terribly, but he only dared to open his eyes when they slowed to a walk.

  They moved along a wide dusty track through a karalanth village surrounded by a mix of evergreens and deciduous trees, typical of the great forests of mid-Frayon. Round wooden huts of varying sizes were dotted here and there. They had shallow, thatched, conical roofs, from the centre of which rose smoke and the smell of cooking from the hearth fires below.

  Given what Coronos knew of karalanths, he suspected that they were deep in the forest. They were the most secretive of peoples. The scent of wood burning was heavy in the damp forest air. He could hear the thundering sound of a large river not too far away, and wondered if they had travelled eastward following the Arin Flow.

  Through bleary eyes he watched the karalanths of the village come to stare anxiously at the strange humans. Karalanth children, their antlers small and covered in soft light brown down, stared fearfully up at him from behind their mothers’ legs. The captors untied him, gently this time, and he searched worriedly for Asaph as they set him on his feet. His legs were weak and cramped, and he would have fallen had not strong hands supported him.

  ‘Easy, two-foot,’ the karalanth said gruffly, though there was no malice in his tone. Coronos pulled away and staggered towards his son as the karalanths laid him on the grass. He knelt beside him and smoothed his matted hair away from his face. His skin was pale and damp, and he groaned softly yet did not awake.

  ‘How long has he had these wounds, two-foot?’ the leader karalanth asked.

  Coronos scowled up at him. ‘A day at least, and the name is Coronos. His is Asaph,’ he said, indicating to the younger man before him. His scowl turned to a frown of worry. ‘I fear my healing was enough to clean the wound, but not enough to stop Keteth’s poisoned magic work its evil. He would not be this bad if it weren’t for you barbarians,’ he spat.

  The karalanth guffawed. ‘So, you have some spirit. Maybe you should be more careful into whose lands you tread, old man, then this would not have happened. Regarding trespassers, experience advises us to strike first, ask questions later. Maybe for you, it was lucky you found us. You cannot fix those wounds alone, as well you know. Only a seer has ever successfully healed a wound from that beast, and rarely at that. Just two days gone one such as they passed through here. Send for Triest’anth,’ he said over his shoulder. The karalanth that had carried Coronos nodded and bounded off.

  A few moments later Coronos looked up into the wizened face of an ageing karalanth. His face was deeply wrinkled, but still angular, and his fur was sleek though greying. He had a long grey beard that hung in a thin point to his navel. Coronos could feel the energy of magic within the old karalanth, the telltale sign of one skilled in the art. There was nothing but kindness in the old karalanth’s deep brown eyes, and this set Coronos at ease. He took one look at Asaph, and with a motion of his arm, commanded them to bring him to his house. They jumped to do his bidding.

  Through thickly woven doors of toughened reeds, they entered into a dark candlelit round room. Triest‘anth’s house seemed larger inside than it looked outside. In the centre, a fire burned low, and above it hung a blackened pot supported by three iron poles. The rich smell of food came from it, making Coronos faint with hunger.

  A long deep shelf covered with jars of potions and odd-looking utensils, some of which Coronos recognised as magical devices, ran around the centre of the wall, and underneath it were various wicker baskets filled with bread, fruits and vegetables. Large cushions surrounded the hearth, and there was a pleasant herbal smell drifting from the incense burning beside it. The place was relaxing, almost meditative.

  A pallet bed made of straw and blankets and surrounded by linen drapes was arranged in one end of the hut. It was to this that Triest‘anth motioned them to take Asaph, and then waved them away except for Coronos. He bade Coronos sit before the hearth as he busied himself mixing herbs and liquids into a bowl.

  ‘Stay, please. I’ll need your help. Tell me what you put upon the wounds.’

  ‘I made a simple poultice of plants and minerals,’ Coronos said, hesitated, then added, ‘but few from Frayon. From far away, from the Uncharted Lands.’

  Triest’anth stopped his stirring looked up into the air for a moment, then resumed.

  ‘I’ve heard nothing of the lands beyond the Shadows, beyond the beast,’ he said in wonder. ‘Indeed, I know of no one who has. You are knowledgeable indeed. I want to hear more of this wondrous land and its people. But another time perhaps, for his wound festers, though your herbs have done well for such terrible injuries.

  ‘I will do what I can to bring out the fever, and send a runner to find the seer who left two days past. All we can do until then, is keep him alive. Luckily I sense he is strong, a Dragon Lord, so they tell me,’ he cast a sideways glance at Coronos as he ground his pestle and mortar.

  ‘He is…’ Coronos hesitated, unwilling to reveal anything, but the minimum of Asaph’s identity to anyone, ‘… my son.’

  Triest’anth regarded him, seeming to understand. ‘It’s fine. We must protect our secrets and ourselves in these dark times, Draxian. You will not find trouble from us again… Dragon Rider,’ he said softly, making Coronos start.

  ‘How did you know?’ but the old karalanth only smiled knowingly, and beckoned him to help with Asaph’s bandages.

  In silence, they removed the young man’s sweaty bloody clothes, and washed his wounds before salving them with a grey, acrid-smelling poultice. They wrapped fresh bandages over the wounds and washed the sweat and dirt from the rest of his body, leaving him to sleep under a thick blanket.

  ‘We should all sleep here tonight. I shall make two more beds beside his, for he should not be alone. We can take turns to watch over him. Now we should tend to your bruise,’ Triest’anth gestured to the red swelling on Coronos, head. Coronos touched it and winced.

  ‘Please forgive our hostility. We have suffered many hardships and many enemies for a long time. Pushed ever further north from our lands by ogres, harpies, Maphraxies, and countless other evil things for which we have no name. But Draxians are not our enemy.’ Triest’anth gave an apologetic smile and looked away into the middle distance.

  ‘It seems the land itself is sick,’ Triest’anth said, smoothing a cooling paste onto Coronos’ bruise.

  ‘The infectious decay is Baelthrom’s doing,’ Coronos said, and made a warding sign against evil in the air.

  Triest’anth nodded. ‘Now the dark moon rises, and the forest watches and waits. There is the stillness of expectation in the trees, the animals, the air. We don’t understand Woetala’s plan, but we must be ready for what is coming. We’ve spent many years in hiding, watching the rise of the Immortal Lord and his minions. We must admit that, at first, we enjoyed reports of the Maphraxian war with our enemies, the dwarves and humans, but soon we grew fearful, knowing full well Baelthrom would not stop until Woetala was on her knees at his feet.’

  Coronos looked at the deer man as he spoke. The karalanths were the keepers of the forest, and legend has it that they were blessed by the goddess of the forest, Woetala, and made in the image of her beloved consort, the stag. It was the forest goddess aspect of the Great Goddess that they held most reverently in their hearts.

  ‘You have come a long way north in the decades we’ve been gone from the Known World,’ Coronos mused. He knew that the karalanths ancestral lands were in Venosia, and the islands between Venosia and Davono. But many Woetala moons ago, war raged between the karalanths and the dark dwarves when the dwarves invaded their land. They received no help
from the light dwarves, for they cared little for the deer people.

  ‘Ever since the dwarves of light mistakenly thought we were in league with the dwarves of dark and attacked our battle-weary people…’ Triest’anth began. ‘Ever since the dwarves slaughtered us and we fled to Davono, we have been in hiding. We could have won against the dark dwarves, we had a chance - but had none against the light dwarves as well.’

  ‘After we fled our home our persecution continued, whether by human hand or ogre or immortal scum. We kept going west and north away from Davono, until we finally found peace and refuge in the ancient forests of Frayon, where we hoped to be forgotten by the world. We have kept our existence as secret as possible, and honed our hatred of the dwarves into a bitter flame,’ Triest’anth shook his head as if it were a bad thing. ‘I fear we have become too secretive, distrustful and hostile to all except the animals of the forest.’

  ‘The dwarves were mistaken, they know this now,’ Coronos offered. ‘We cannot fight Baelthrom if we are divided amongst ourselves like this.’

  ‘Yes but few will know what happened next, for no dwarf will ever speak of it,’ Triest’anth said. ‘Many years later, the dwarven King and Queen issued an apology to all karalanths, and welcomed us back to their homeland. But the royal dwarven messengers were sent back, without their heads.’ He shook his head with a sigh as if he would not have done the same.

  ‘We karalanths are too proud. We accepted no second chances, no half measures, no promises of peace with the dwarves only to scavenge the scraps that remained of our land. We would rather wait until Woetala calls us back to take what is rightfully ours. Nothing pleases us more than to know the light dwarves lost their country too.’

  Coronos sighed. ‘Draxians are also proud, they would have done the same.’ He gave a half-smile.

  The karalanth looked at him and chuckled. ‘In my old age, I prefer peace over revenge.’

  Coronos nodded. ‘I’ve been away from the Known World for too long, blessedly long mind, living in peace and abundance with the Kuapoh peoples. But I too long for my homeland Drax.’ He drifted into memories of tall snow-capped mountains and clear blue skies, then realised Triest’anth had asked him a question. Coronos raised an eyebrow and the karalanth repeated it.

  ‘Why have you come to Frayon from the safety of the Uncharted Lands? Baelthrom’s disease spreads across the land, and now, unexpected, a dark moon rises, and a Dragon Lord and Dragon Rider return from across the ocean. We feel a change in the magic and life force that moves through the forest. We do not believe in coincidences, nothing happens without purpose.’

  Coronos was silent for a while, watching the old karalanth. He was afraid to trust when Baelthrom’s spies were everywhere. Fear and distrust were a poison infecting all the free peoples of Maioria. They already knew Asaph was a Dragon Lord, and so he chanced a partial truth, suddenly overcome with a desperate need to trust someone.

  ‘We have been in hiding for twenty-five years, ever since Baelthrom invaded Drax, hoping it would be long enough for us to be forgotten. But then Asaph was given a divine quest from Feygriene herself.’

  Triest’anth raised an eyebrow as Coronos told him everything that had happened.

  ‘I fear our fight with Keteth 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’s some tale, Draxian, and don’t 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 looked down at the deathly pale face of Asaph, the last of the Dragon Lords, and his heart was heavy.

  ‘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.’

  Coronos looked into the distance. ‘There is more. It was her Keteth was after, she was how he found us. Asaph fought him bravely, enough to stall the beast, and then the Wykiry came… Beautiful,’ Coronos smiled at the memory of their shimmering forms. Triest’anth looked wistful.

  ‘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. But if I can find a safe place to scry for her, somewhere quiet and sacred, then I think I can reach her,’ Coronos said.

  ‘If you can wait until nightfall when the forest is dark, my son Cusap’anth, the one who 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. He was wondering about their future when 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’ll come for you. We’ll travel deep into the forest,’ Cusap’anth said, his voice deep and resonating with a thick accent so unlike his father’s, suggesting that he’d had little contact, if any, with other races.

  ‘Thank you,’ Coronos said gratefully.

  Cusap’anth inclined his head and finding no reason to stay longer, left on silent hooves.

  ‘My eldest son is hard and proud,’ Triest’anth said, ‘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 say something similar in Draxian. In truth he was right, we would not have survived had he not brought us here,’ he conceded.

  ‘Is he truly your son?’ Triest’anth asked a direct question. ‘I’m merely curious about the bond between you.’

  Coronos hesitated, then decided to speak openly. ‘He’s the closest thing I have to a son. My first child I had to leave with her mother because of the war in Drax. That was many years ago. My, how time flies. It saddens me greatly, but I know so little 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’m 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.

  Chapter 29

  Woetala's Moon

  AS the afternoon turned 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 down on the makeshift bed beside him, but worry 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. He got up to check on Asaph.

  The young man’s sheets were damp, so Coronos replaced them with his own. Asaph did not stir, but continued his soft murmurings, words too quiet and broken to understand. 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 his son except pray that the seer would come swiftly and could help. Carefully he held a cup of water to Asaph’s lips and managed to get some down before refilling it and drinking himself. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared disconsolately at the empty cup.

  The door inched opened and moonlight spilled over Cusap’anth’s majestic form.

  ‘Come,’ the karalanth whispered. ‘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 before closing the door, subconsciously feeling for the Orb of Air tucked away in his robe.

  The night was fresh. The rich smell of the forest filled his nostrils as he breathed in deeply. There was the feel of magic in the air tonight. Under Woetala’s moon, the night was alive, free and wild, like the karalanths themselves. It filled Coronos with life, and he felt some thirty years younger.

  They walked quickly, but in silence. Coronos struggled to keep pace with the karalanth’s steady walk. Cusap’anth was listening and watching everything, every now and then looking up into the trees, clearly hearing things that were beyond Coronos’ human senses. Finally, they came to a grassy glade illuminated by 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. 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 eyes looked at the orb entranced. Coronos started to hide it again, fearful of Cusap’anth’s fascination. The karalanth tore his eyes away and shivered.