Night Goddess (The Goddess Prophecies Book 1)

by Araya Evermore

  ‘It is a great honour to have you with us, High Priestess,’ Ely said in toneless formality. Issa glanced at Ely, wondering at her coldness. Cirosa’s gaze slithered from her to Ely and she smiled, not bothering to hide her scorn.

  ‘I come to conduct the ceremony of the Great Goddess, and to meet this stranger Freydel has told me so much about. I didn’t come to make idle talk with one who turns her back on the goddess.’

  Ely looked as if she had been slapped, and Issa felt her own cheeks redden in anger. She remembered that Ely had, seemingly unforgivably, left the Temple for the love of a man, but that was a long time ago and the man was dead, but it seemed this priestess still harboured grievances.

  ‘I followed the path the goddess set out for me, one of love, the highest and most noble path,’ Ely said sharply, appearing somewhat used to Cirosa’s manner. ‘Do not be so quick to judge just because you cannot find that path.’

  Issa smiled in surprise at her mild-mannered friend, pleased to not be alone in her dislike of the imperious priestess.

  ‘Come now, this is not a time to open old wounds, but of celebrations,’ Freydel said awkwardly.

  Cirosa looked at Issa with another sour smile. ‘Freydel has told me something of you, and our possible need for you. He believes you are the one spoken of in those dusty old prophecies. Of course, this needs to be indisputably tested, we cannot pin all our hopes on one inexperienced girl and suffer annihilation. Besides much of the old prophecy is just the rambling mumbo jumbo of despots.’

  It was Freydel’s turn to colour and Issa was quite amazed at how the woman sought to make only enemies for herself, insulting everyone around her in turn. The priestesses behind her looked to the floor dumbly, their faces guarded as the High Priestess continued.

  ‘You are not what we were expecting at all,’ Cirosa condescended. ‘Still, the test will prove your worth.’

  To Issa, Cirosa looked every bit like a predator. Issa shifted her feet and her mouth went dry. She felt deeply uncomfortable, for despite Cirosa’s nastiness there was something else, something twisted and unnatural about her. She would need time think on it, and was already looking forward to her leaving.

  ‘What test is this?’ Issa couldn’t keep the acid out of her voice.

  Cirosa looked at her the same way the fancy clothed people did when she spoke, her accent was clearly deemed to be that of a simpleton. Cirosa arched one thin eyebrow in surprise at Freydel.

  ‘There hasn’t been much time to talk on this,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘How much time do you need, wizard? Say, perhaps until the Maphraxies come knocking on our door? We’re already running out of time,’ Cirosa tapped her foot. Freydel’s back stiffened.

  ‘You’re supposed to come and save us from the Maphraxies,’ Cirosa sneered, turning back to Issa. ‘A warrior sent from the Night Goddess herself to slay the Immortal Lord and lead us all to glory,’ Cirosa ended with a sickly sweet smile that soon faded.

  ‘So you can see my surprise to find a dizzy girl from some backwater arrive claiming to be this person.’

  ‘Neither do I claim to be this person, nor do I believe I’m the one spoken of in the prophecies. But I’m happy to do your “tests,” and we can put this whole thing to rest once and for all,’ she said, unable to keep the anger from her voice.

  Then you can rest happily in your dwelling, whatever rock that might be under, and carry on ordering others about. She wished she had the gall to say the words out loud, if only for her friends’ sake. She certainly was not going to be intimidated by her.

  A cunning smile twisted Cirosa’s lips. ‘Good, at least you have some spirit. Come to the Temple of Celene in the morning two days from now,’ she commanded and, having placed her order, turned and left with her priestesses.

  Anger coursed through Issa’s veins, she would not let this woman get the better of her.

  ‘What a bitch,’ she said, not caring if Cirosa was in earshot. ‘How dare she order me around.’

  ‘She’s had quite a hard time,’ Freydel said weakly, Ely harrumphed.

  ‘So have I. So have we all, and I don’t give a damn,’ she burst out, surprised at her own fury. The air seemed to close in around her and tingle, and Freydel’s eyes widened in surprise as if he felt it too. Was it magic that moved? She swallowed at the thought.

  ‘Don’t worry about her,’ Ely soothed, slipping her arm through Issa’s. ‘She’s just jealous of you because you’re getting all the attention, and most particularly from Rance. I think she fancies herself the goddess’s own chosen one, though she hasn’t a whit of talent about her, and no gifts worthy of speaking about.’

  With Ely’s words, and in the priestess’s absence, she felt some peace return and the air no longer tingled.

  ‘Ma always told me I should go to Frayon and seek out the temple priestesses to train my healing abilities, but now I’m not so sure,’ Issa said.

  ‘The High Priestess of Frayon, the Oracle, controls the order of the Great Goddess in all of Known Maioria,’ Freydel explained. ‘The High Priestess of Celene, the Great Goddess’s sacred Isle, is second in rule, but it’s a position of much power for no law is passed by the High Priestess of Frayon that isn’t first approved by the High Priestess of Celene. Often it is the High Priestess of Celene who creates the laws, though Cirosa has not yet completed the years of service necessary to fulfil that role completely.’

  ‘Corrupts the laws more like,’ Ely said, sourly.

  Issa said nothing. She took a glass from one of the servants carrying trays of wine and tried to enjoy the celebrations again.

  An hour or so later, some twenty or more high priests and priestesses from all over Maioria began gathering together, readying themselves to start the Midsummer Celebration ceremonies. All held thin white staves and were dressed in white robes that gleamed orange in the setting sun. At Cirosa’s order, the crowd hushed and the music stilled to silence.

  ‘Now is the time we must honour the Great Goddess and give thanks for our bountiful lives,’ Cirosa’s voice rang out clearly in the silence.

  Issa positioned herself well back and out of sight. Some forty or so lower ranked priests and priestesses, dressed in pastel yellow or grey robes and without staves, gave out candles to each guest as the High Priestess began a long speech.

  ‘We are blessed that our enemies, the enemies of our Great Goddess, have not reached her sacred Isle, but we pray too that peace will once again cover all of Maioria. I, Cirosa, High Priestess of the Temple of Celene, am divinely chosen by the Great Goddess to soon be the Oracle of the Temple, and I shall see to it that peace does indeed come to our lands.’

  Issa almost laughed aloud at Cirosa’s arrogance. She glanced at Ely and the older woman shook her head in disbelief. But the crowd felt differently, and cheered and clapped for some time. She did not want to hear anymore and busied herself with her own thoughts, trying to close her ears as Cirosa droned on for another half an hour.

  There came a moment of blessed silence that brought her back to the present. Cirosa held up her faintly glowing staff and spoke in Old Celenian. She led the procession away from the castle into the woods. The priests and priestesses fell in line, followed by the guests so that a long snake of glittering candles trailed out behind her in the darkness.

  Ely, Issa and Freydel eventually joined the end to ensure no one fell behind or got lost, now night had fallen. The wine flowed sweetly in Issa’s veins, as she knew it must in the others around her, whose raucous behaviour earlier had given way to silent reverence.

  They had been walking for about a quarter of an hour through the dark woods when they stopped at a wide clearing in the trees before the river. She followed the others to its edge, and when her turn came followed Ely’s cue and carefully placed her candle in the tiny paper boats decorated with flowers.

  ‘For you, Mother,’ she whispered, and watched it float amongst the others as it was carried downstream, a twinkling light in the darkness on a short
journey to the sea.

  ‘It is meant as a gift,’ Ely whispered, ‘an offering of thanks to the Mother Goddess for her bounty. Though over the past few years that bounty has declined and crops have failed.’

  ‘You know it’s funny,’ Issa said, ‘we used to do a similar thing at home, only we had paper lanterns which we let go into the air, and watched the wind carry them up and away. I used to watch them until they were long gone.’

  Issa watched the candles until they all disappeared. She imagined their journey upon the ocean, the candlelight shining down into the dark water until it was absorbed. She heard her name spoken, but it came from far away, and she wanted to stay and watch the candles.

  In her mind’s eye, she followed the candlelight into the depths of the ocean. Down where that behemoth moved, bloated, corrupt and evil. She tried to pull away, but it was as if she were trapped in honey, and a sickly desire to go to it moved within her.

  ‘Issa.’

  Freydel’s voice cut through those dark waters and suddenly she was looking into the wizard’s concerned face, the magic from his command glittered in the air. Freydel held her by the shoulders, supporting her. She blinked and looked around. They were both alone beside the river, the people’s voices growing fainter in the distance.

  ‘I’m all right,’ she said, but her voice was faint and her mind cloudy. ‘In the depths, where it is dark…’

  ‘He lurks there, I know, and he is close too, I can feel his twisted magic,’ Freydel said, finishing her sentence. His eyes grew wide with realisation. ‘He knows, of course he knows.’

  ‘Knows what?’ Issa frowned.

  Freydel turned to her excitedly. ‘Knows the prophecy, knows the power. Of course, he would know more than any of us, especially when…’ Freydel trailed off, his excitement fading.

  ‘He knows his fate is coming to pass,’ he shook his head. ‘Never mind, we mustn’t talk of these things now. Let’s us join the others and celebrate. I need more time to think on this before I speak.’

  Freydel led her along the path to catch up with the others. With a command, his staff glowed bright and lit the way. Despite her fear of using magic, she would really like to be able to do that trick. She gladly took his arm. The vision had left her disturbed and drained.

  Without all the candles and only the soft light from Freydel’s staff, Issa found she could see surprisingly well in the darkness. Wondering how, she unhooked her arm from Freydel’s and slipped off the bracelet Ely had given her. Nothing changed, only that it felt like she was missing something. She could still feel the whole forest pulsing with life regardless. She slipped the bracelet back on, feeling whole once more.

  ‘Ah,’ said Freydel in surprise, ‘Ely’s mother’s bracelet. Goodness me, I’ve not seen that in many years. A healer’s bracelet too. Her mother had quite a talent for healing the sick, and for enchanting trinkets such as those,’ he smiled at her.

  ‘Yes, she gave it to me, though I did not want to take so precious an item,’ she said, tracing the gleaming silver leaves.

  ‘Keep it. The Lady Ely does few things without a purpose. And to give something such as that, she must have had a good reason.’

  Issa smiled. ‘Yes, I think she did.’

  She could feel Freydel watching her from the corner of his eye as they walked. It seemed she was keenly sensitive to anyone watching her lately, maybe it was since Keteth had hunted her in the Shadowlands. She tried to pretend she didn’t notice him watching, and instead absorbed herself in the world around her. Keteth’s presence was near, enough even for Freydel to sense it too. Could Freydel also sense the changes she was feeling in herself?

  She felt feral eyes upon her and looked up into the foliage above them. An owl’s huge saucepan-like eyes stared back at her and she stopped, focusing her attention upon it. She was always sensitive to animals, but this time it was far stronger. She could ‘feel’ its presence. Could it also feel hers?

  There came pressure in her head, almost bordering on pain, and then stared dumbfounded down at herself from the owl’s perch. She blinked, but still saw herself from above. Was the owl also looking up at her through her own eyes? The wind rustled her feathers and she felt a keen wild urge to hunt. She shook her head—her head or the bird’s? She focused on her human form, blinked, and was back in her own body. She felt relieved, but also empty and tame. The owl ruffled its feathers and flew off on silent wings to resume its hunt.

  Freydel was watching her intently.

  ‘Did you see…?’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t see anything more than felt it,’ he said. ‘It’s the same feeling I get when around any Daluni. I had wondered what it was I felt before and now it’s obvious.’

  ‘Daluni?’

  ‘Animal Speakers. They have a rare gift, they can “converse” with animals. Or rather understand what an animal is thinking, as can the animal understand their thoughts.’

  She immediately thought of Duskar. ‘But that was always part of my ability to help heal animals, only now it seems really strong,’ she mused. ‘I didn’t speak with the owl, rather it seems I became it, or the owl became me. Either way, we were one, or two joined together…’ she frowned in confusion.

  ‘Healers and Daluni are quite separate gifts, but each has many dimensions no doubt,’ Freydel mused. ‘I had not thought this would happen, but of course it makes sense now. A gift fitting for any Child of the Raven.’

  She thought about that as they neared the castle grounds where warm port was being served, and music and drunken singing again abounded.

  Chapter 31

  High Priestess

  ISSA awoke and grimaced as Cirosa’s face drifted down into the fog of her consciousness, a fog formed from nearly two days’ worth of celebrations. Her head swum and her stomach lurched. She tried to go back to sleep, but that face and her churning stomach would not let her.

  With a sigh she pulled herself out of bed, drained the pitcher of water beside her, not even bothering with a cup, and began mentally preparing herself for today’s dreaded meeting. She was not afraid of the priestess, she just couldn’t stand her.

  As if mirroring her mood the day was hot, sticky and overcast with a strong threat of rain. Even after she washed she had begun to sweat uncomfortably in the humidity. A strong cup of spring nettle tea helped settle her stomach, and seemed to be what everyone else was drinking at breakfast. The weary looks of maids and guests told her she did not suffer alone.

  Freydel was already waiting for her in the courtyard. He was mounted atop Tak, his tall dark grey stallion. He and the horse were perfectly still as if they were both deep in thought. He jumped when she spoke and smiled at her, though anxiousness clouded his eyes.

  A stable girl led forward Ely’s mare Izy, for Issa to ride. Tied to the mare was an unusually docile Duskar. Issa patted Izy and went to Duskar. She slowly reached forwards and stroked his nose, speaking soft and soothing words. His ears flicked back and forth.

  ‘I thought it would be a good idea to get him used to being away from the stables, and in your company. After an hour of trying and speaking your name he suffered a rope, but no halter or saddle,’ Ely said coming up beside them.

  ‘Maybe next time,’ Issa smiled, pleased that Duskar allowed that much. ‘Is it far to the temple?’ she asked as Ely helped her mount.

  ‘A couple of hours’ ride at a slow pace, not far,’ Freydel said. Tak stamped his feet as if keen to be off.

  They set off at a steady trot across terrain that was grassy and flat. They passed through several villages on the way, and on seeing Freydel the children came up and ran beside them, laughing as he performed magic tricks. She laughed as a shower of petals fell around them and became butterflies that the children then tried to catch. Their parents smiled and waved, for it was he to whom they turned when they were sick or injured, Freydel explained.

  A distant rumble of thunder urged them on at a quicker pace, though she would have liked to stay and talk with the people
, partly to learn more about them and this sacred isle, and partly to delay the inevitable meeting.

  They came to the edge of the woods before a sunny meadow when panic gripped her. Her head throbbed, her sight blurred, and she was sure she could hear the raven cawing from somewhere. In a blink she was cowering in the top most branches of a tree, her feet and tail tightly gripping the bark, and her eyes transfixed upon a dark shape gliding overhead, its form flickering through the gaps in the green leaves. Her heart beat harder than ever she had known it, and she was trembling all over.

  The shape above had the body of a vulture, but bigger, and its unkempt dark feathers were slick as if coated in oil. Its face, neck and chest were human and beautiful with plump red lips, smooth skin, and the bare breasts of a young woman. But the eyes were black and the stench of corruption lay thick about it. The bird woman screeched, its beautiful face contorting into a snarl revealing black fangs. Issa squeaked and tore her eyes away.

  ‘Harpy,’ Freydel rasped far below her. ‘Back into the woods, quick.’

  She blinked, there came a tearing sound, and the vision was gone. She was back in her body sat atop a trembling mare. She turned Izy around, and spurred her into the woods after Freydel, glancing up as she did so to see a tiny brown monkey in the branches screeching its warning to others. It glanced down at her and stared far too long for an animal in a panic, then it leapt through the treetops and disappeared.

  Beyond it, she spotted the dark shape of the raven and relaxed a little. Duskar was not quivering, but his ears were pricked and his muscles bunched taut and ready to fight.

  ‘I’ve not seen one of those for a long time, and certainly not in Celene. I wonder what has brought it here,’ Freydel said quietly, watching the harpy glide low above the treetops. ‘We’re lucky, it hasn’t spotted us, yet it knows something is here. I daren’t use magic, it would feel the spell before I could cast it. They are wielders of magic too. I don’t fear one alone, but they are rarely far from their flock unless on some mission. This one could be a scout. Demons curse it. This is very bad indeed, they are in league with Baelthrom.’