‘Trust me you are safe, Draxian. I would have none of that burdensome power.’
A dark shadow passed over them. Coronos jumped and 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 up. In a sweeping descent, an owl appeared out of the night and landed gracefully on it.
‘She is a friend,’ he said, stroking her chest.
‘Your totem animal?’ Coronos asked. Cusap’anth nodded.
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 the animals of the wood. The Daluni talent, the ability to speak with animals, was strong amongst the deer people. 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 nodded acquiescence, unwrapping the orb once more. His attention was 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. He closed his eyes and 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.
Cusap’anth muttered something beside him, but Coronos’ mind was too far away to hear, 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 beneath white clouds and a blue sky. A fertile green island appeared upon the horizon with sparkling white 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, then felt another mind touch his. A powerful one. He pulled back instinctively, afraid.
‘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’ve not long, friend, and it’s 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. Come to Celene,’ Freydel replied.
A terrible screeching cut through their communication. Pain ripped through Coronos’ mind, and something powerful and corrupt entered the 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 grim-faced, still stroking the owl. ‘Keteth is powerful to touch even here…’
‘I ended the Flow in time,’ 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’s 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 then disappeared to the south-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’ head. Coronos touched it gingerly, it still hurt, but the swelling was going down. He half-smiled.
‘Asaph would surely have died by now had you not found us.’
‘He still might. Woetala protect him,’ he said and made a symbol of protection in the air. ‘Come, let’s return home and sleep.’
Coronos nodded, already looking forward to his bed.
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’ heart, and he struggled to find sleep again that night.
The hours dragged into days and Asaph’s state fluctuated alarmingly. His wounds 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’s been three days, and still she doesn’t 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, and we do nothing but wait.’
‘Please, my friend. I understand your frustration, but it cannot help him,’ Triest’anth said, trying to calm him.
Coronos sighed and stopped pacing. ‘I’m sorry, 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 muddled consciousness as the fever burned inside, every cell afire with it, 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 mind. In his thick tentacles he held Issa, bruised and bleeding, 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 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. 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 30
Midsummer Celebration
&nb
sp; MIDSUMMER 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 throng.
‘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 clothed in 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 actually walk in them.
Wizards with long robes, gnarly staves and tall hats were sweating profusely in the summer heat, refusing to give in and take off their robes of status. However, one young, tall and skinny wizard had already discarded his hat, stuffed it into his belt, and tied his cloak about his waist. Though it was only morning he was red-faced from wine, but still managed to put on a good show for the children clustered around him. They stared up at him wide-eyed as he performed magic tricks. Flashing lights danced in the sky all the colours of the rainbow. She found herself giggling at the spectacle.
She glimpsed Freydel deep in conversation with a short, fat, mostly bald lord who had a thick moustache and shiny black boots. The glass of red wine he held looked positively tiny in his large chubby hand. She was more intrigued by Freydel though, for he too was fully dressed in his wizard’s outfit - hat and robe of purple hues and a thick staff.
She smiled at him, but he was too engrossed in his conversation and didn’t see her. She couldn’t help but wonder if there were any female wizards, there certainly were none here at the celebrations. There were also a fair few less well-dressed people, probably poorer travellers and locals.
‘All who can make the journey from across Maioria are welcome to the Midsummer Celebrations on the Sacred Isle, for it was always meant to be a spiritual thanksgiving,’ Ely explained. ‘Though some still think it’s a fashion parade. But despite what you wear, all are equals here at Castle Elune. Less and less people come each year, maybe they have lost the heart for celebrating, or have forgotten the meaning of gratitude.’
Priests and priestesses mingled in the crowd, but it was they whom she found she most disliked. They were unsmiling though everyone else was enjoying themselves. Despite their pristine white robes that gleamed brightly, they wore them with a seemingly pompous attitude, their faces stating what their lips did not; that they were better than, higher than, and more blessed than everyone else. She did not say anything to Ely, feeling it was not her place to express her opinions, but the way the older woman navigated away from them made her wonder if she felt the same.
She stayed close to Ely who introduced her as a “close friend” when nobles asked who she was, much to Issa’s surprise and pleasure. When she spoke they seemed to grimace as if her island accent was not to their liking. She was relieved when they smiled tightly but asked no more, there was nothing she could think of to speak to them about anyway.
‘Don’t worry, only royal blood sparks their interests,’ Ely patted her arm as they walked.
There was much to see and do, and she eventually plucked up enough courage to leave Ely chatting and go exploring. She watched knights in shining armour on elegant horses joust and laughed and cheered along with other spectators. In a bold move, she joined the other ladies to throw a rose upon one of the victors. He caught her eye and winked, making her cheeks instantly turn crimson.
There were archery competitions and sword plays, circus acts and dancers, and several merry bands that played throughout the day. The jesters and jokers constantly danced and whirled amongst the crowd, tirelessly causing mischief. She wandered through many stalls tasting wines, beers and ciders, exotic fruits, oils and breads, spices and jams, and many foods she had no hope of recognising. She ate so much she thought her dress would burst.
The wine was particularly good and soon her head began to swim. As the day wore on, and an endless supply of wine flowed, the dancing and music became more raucous. Two knights, earlier jousting on opposing sides, danced with each other in a flamboyant display. One tripped and fell, pulling the other down on top of him. The crowd burst into fits of laughter.
Whilst laughing, she was caught off guard when the same dark-haired knight she had thrown a rose to earlier, sidled up to her with a smile that made her legs weaken. It was just the wine, she tried to tell herself.
‘I haven’t seen you dance yet,’ he said, his brown eyes smiling down at her.
‘I uh… can’t uh… don’t know the song, er, hah,’ she stammered, desperately searching for Ely in the crowd, but she was nowhere to be seen. He laughed, his smile making his face even more handsome, and making hers hotter.
‘Then I shall show you. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,’ he said, winking again, as he grasped her hand.
Ignoring her protests he led her into the midst of whirling laughing dancers. Twice she nearly fell, but he caught her and showed her the steps again. She began to pick it up, her confidence building as she mastered the dance. Soon she was giggling as they twirled around each other. She felt a little giddy being so close to him, could feel the firmness of his body next to hers, and the wine singing in her veins made her thoughts wilder than she wanted.
She looked for Ely again, but the crowd was a blur of laughing clapping figures. All at once the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she felt hot and uncomfortable. Her eyes darted over the blurred laughing faces, searching for the source of the feeling akin to malice, but couldn’t, at first, see anything.
A face she had not seen before formed in the blur, a face that was not smiling, a pale beautiful female face framed in long blonde hair, cold blue eyes and red lips the colour of blood. Under that gaze, she felt like a bird caught and pinned down by a cat. A cold chill ran down her spine.
She lost the face in the crowd as soon as she saw it, and instead found Ely’s warm smile. Relief washed over her, and she waved at Ely who laughed and waved back. But try as she might Issa could not rid her mind of the beautiful fair-haired woman.
The dance came to an end and they left breathless, letting fresher dancers take their place. Laughing, he held her close to steady her, and they made their way over to Lady Eleny.
‘Oh Rance, you always have to dance with the prettiest,’ Ely said in mock chastisement.
Rance blushed. ‘She chose me first, with a rose. How could I refuse such beauty?’ he bowed to Issa. In a swift motion, he kissed her on each cheek, before she could shy away, and whispered, ‘You’re a fast learner, I’ll find you again for another dance before the night is through.’ Then he whirled away and disappeared into the crowd before she had time to reply, leaving her standing open-mouthed in shock at his audacity.
‘He’s such a flirt,’ Ely yelped. ‘But anyway, you two looked great. I think he likes you,’ she added with an impish smile.
‘You think so? He must have girls falling over themselves for him,’ Issa replied dismissively.
‘Yes, he attracts much attention, but none are as pretty as you,’ Ely complimented, that impish smile still on her face.
Issa looked away blushing. ‘Oh nonsense, you will only expand my ego. Besides, what about that blonde woman? She is far more beautiful.’
‘Who is?’ Ely asked, bending closer as the music grew louder. Issa was about to speak when a familiar voice came from behind her.
‘I didn’t realise you were such a good dancer,’ said Freydel.
She turned and beamed up at him. ‘Oh not really, I would have fallen, twice, had Rance not caught
me.’
Freydel smiled back at her but under the smile, his face was worn and his amber eyes guarded. She thought she heard a raven caw in the distance and was about to dismiss it when her attention caught a flutter of wings atop the roof of Castle Elune. She felt a sinking feeling. The raven reminded her that danger might be near, and here, in the midst of the celebrations, all she wanted to do was forget about her problems and the world. Still, it was better to feel protected.
The beautiful fair-haired woman appeared from behind Freydel, unsmiling despite the joyous celebrations. She wore long white robes and held a long thin white staff that emanated a subtle energy. Her blonde hair fell around her slender shoulders, and, though she was shorter than Issa, she somehow managed to look down at her.
Issa had the strongest urge to be as far away from the woman as possible, though she had not said or done anything apart from look at her with cold eyes and red lips turned downwards. Two other priestesses in white robes stood regal and sullen behind her, they held no staff.
Her mind was a whir of thoughts, but she kept her face a blank mask. She wondered if dancing with Rance had caused the blonde woman’s apparent animosity. She decided to keep up the friendly exterior, she didn’t need any enemies and the woman might not be as bad as that.
‘I would like you to meet the High Priestess of Celene, Cirosa. Cirosa is in charge of the Celenian Temple, and second only to the ailing High Priestess of Frayon - the Oracle of the Temple of the Great Goddess, or more simply the Temple,’ Freydel said and bowed. Cirosa said nothing, and only gave a smile that was more like a smirk.
With utter reluctance, Issa followed Freydel’s bow but did so stiffly. She noticed those nearest also bowed, making Cirosa’s high status clear, much to her dismay. She was annoyed at bowing to anyone this haughty and unfriendly, and couldn’t stop a mocking smile sweep across her face. She bowed her head a little lower to hide it.
Night Goddess (The Goddess Prophecies Book 1) Page 30