Another boom came. A flash of light illuminated the cavern and the legion of skeleton soldiers before them. Marakon roared and struck, ignoring their dire predicament. The sound of tumbling rocks was replaced with the yells of soldiers. Behind, and to his left, he glimpsed the rest of his unit pour into the cavern through the crumbled wall. He laughed, the sight of them giving him renewed strength.
With the odds more even, skeletons fell fast beneath his elite army. The battle waged quickly, viciously on his soldiers’ part, pent up as they had been in the demon tunnels. Within the hour, not one skeleton remained standing.
Marakon took off his helmet with trembling hands and slapped Bokaard on the back.
‘Well met, friend,’ Marakon said.
‘Why do you always have to fight without me?’ the big man sighed. ‘Three enemies in one day? We haven’t even got to the front line yet!’
Marakon laughed. ‘I’m done in before we’ve even got there. How many dead and wounded?’ he asked Justenin, his humour vanishing as he steeled himself against the report.
‘Five, Sir, and the same again injured badly,’ the tall man’s face was flushed with exertion.
Marakon nodded, swallowing his guilt for the dead like so many times before. ‘It’s unfortunate, but it could have been much worse. We rest here, for a short time, then we get moving again,’ he spoke loudly for all to hear.
The soldiers sat or stood upon the ashes of their fallen foe and rested.
4
Lumenoor
‘And now, we separate them,’ said Ayeth, his golden skin gleaming in the pulsing light.
The tall Aralan drew his delicate, six-fingered hands apart, and the white magic filling his palms flared brightly. ‘Look at that. Magnificent!’
Freydel held his breath in fear and awe as he watched his Orb of Death throb with power between Ayeth’s hands. It began to elongate, its black light sizzling against the Aralan’s white magic. Ayeth drew his hands further apart and the orb elongated even more, making Freydel gasp.
Lona leaned closer, her eyes wide and as black and shining as the orb that captivated her. Her pale white face and smooth, hairless head shone brighter in the magic. Every time he came here now he could never find Ayeth alone; Lona was ever at his side, an irritation he let slide in the current magic of the orb.
Ayeth twisted his hands and the orb separated. Everyone gasped. Before them now were two shining onyx orbs resting on the glowing surface of the blue crystal pedestal.
‘How is that possible? How can you create this from the very ether?’ Freydel understood magic as a force to bend to one’s will, to co-create with and command. What Ayeth had done was create substance out of nothing.
‘I have a gift,’ Ayeth said softly. ‘Arzanu has blessed me with the gift of the pre-creative force. As such, all forms of elemental power and substance are open to me.’
Freydel blinked. He only knew one other with the power of the precreative force, and that was Issa. It seems the Night Goddess gives her gift to only a select few. But what did it mean for Ayeth to have the gift? Did Baelthrom have the same powers? Falling into the Dark Rift had changed him beyond recognition; he couldn’t possibly have the same powers—he couldn’t command the Flow—could he?
‘And they are exactly the same?’ asked Freydel as the magic torrent that Ayeth commanded lessened.
‘The same in as much as any two things can be the same,’ said Ayeth, the light of the crystal cavern now casting his skin in a blue shimmer. ‘The only difference will be that this second orb is created here, so it will hold Aralansia’s energy encryption, as well as Maioria’s—potentially making it more powerful, although I cannot be sure.’
Freydel licked his lips as he stared at the replica orb. Could it really hold more power than his? A sense of foreboding stole over him, but he didn’t know why. He lifted a hand towards the orb, but Lona was faster and touched it first, Ayeth too slow to stop her. Her small hand cupped the side of the orb and she closed her eyes, her smile deepening.
Ayeth swiftly touched it too. ‘Be careful of the things you touch after their creation. Like a baby they will attach to the first person they see.’
‘A second orb of undoing,’ Lona breathed.
‘Aralansia’s own orb of power,’ said Ayeth staring into the black surface.
Freydel picked his orb up. ‘If only I could create duplicates of the orbs Baelthrom holds…’
‘I must create one for Yurgharon,’ said Lona, opening her eyes.
Ayeth frowned, his perfectly smooth brow rising with worry. ‘That would not be wise. It could too easily fall into enemy hands.’
Lona dropped her gaze back to the orb and chewed her lip. ‘With greater power, we could destroy them once and for all. Then we would be free.’
‘Objects of power must not be used for harm. This is where the Yurgharon are going wrong and becoming like their enemies. I would use this orb to do good.’ Ayeth, caressed the orb and touched her hand. She dropped her gaze, brooding.
Freydel nodded his agreement at Ayeth’s sage words.
‘Destruction of another is never the answer,’ continued the wise Aralan. ‘Help and rehabilitation is, which is why I do not like the name, Orb of Death or Undoing. It speaks of that same destruction and does not befit this new orb’s Aralansian nature. I will name it “Lumenoor”,’ he said, rolling the ‘r’ in the Aralansian manner, ‘for the vast emptiness of space we see in the night sky above us. Lumenoor is also the name of a rare black gem we have on Aralansia, named for the same reason. I think it is far more fitting.
‘Lumenoor,’ Ayeth repeated, lifting the orb up. Everybody’s eyes followed.
Freydel smiled as it reflected them all perfectly in its dark surface. ‘You have created something marvellous again, great Ayeth.’
‘With it, like you have, I hope to see into the future,’ the Aralan said, smiling. ‘Only a magical relic made on Aralansia has the ability to accurately reach into Aralansia’s future timelines. With it, I might be able to discover what went wrong. Perhaps I might even be able to reach myself there, like you have reached me here so far in the past.’ Ayeth looked at Freydel.
‘I hope it does not come to that,’ said Freydel. ‘I worry that Baelthrom would destroy you for your power. But if you can stop what will happen, countless lives—and planets—will be saved.’
‘Then I must do it.’ The smile dropped from Ayeth’s face and he paled. ‘I am not a fool, however. There are many timelines stretching forth from a single moment. Nothing is set and sealed. The future is… changeable.’
Lona turned away, her delicate fingers stroking her perfect chin.
‘Only you can save our world,’ breathed Freydel. ‘The hope of millions lies in what you will or will not do.’ Relief washed over him. There, he’d said it. He’d been thinking on it for many days now, sometimes waking up in the night to ponder, and now he had come to this conclusion: Issa did not have the power to save Maioria, only Ayeth did.
The prophecies were true once, but now the war had turned, the timeline had changed. Baelthrom was far more powerful than ever the prophecies foretold. No, it would take something far greater than young Issalena Kammy to stop the destruction of Maioria. It would take him assisting the great Ayeth in whatever way he could. The replica orb was the first step.
A sudden, terrible pain in Freydel’s chest made him gasp. A hacking cough took a hold of him and he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, vaguely aware of Ayeth coming to his side as he convulsed.
The pain and lump in his lungs disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving him gasping and sweating.
‘Freydel?’
He looked into Ayeth’s concerned face.
‘I’m all right,’ he whispered but when he took his handkerchief away, it was flecked with bright blood. He scrunched it up and put it back in his pocket, hoping nobody noticed. He didn’t want to raise alarm or look weak. ‘I must be coming down with a cold. I should go and rest.’
>
‘Of course,’ said Ayeth. ‘But you must return to us soon. There is more I can teach you and there are things Lona can teach you too.’
Freydel glanced at Lona who was smiling at him. He wondered what she could teach him, and imagined the great technologies of the Yurgha. He suppressed a shiver and, with slumped shoulders, composed himself. The last thing he wanted to do was return to his mundane room in Castle Carvon. All he wanted was to remain here with the greatest wizard he had ever known. But his body was not letting him.
He would return home, rest, feed his body and come back to Ayeth as soon as he could. Within this new orb lay the answer to the future.
5
Swords and Magic
The journey across the Venosian Straits was painfully slow despite the weather wizards and wind direction being in their favour.
Issa rested her chin on her folded arms and stared down at the frothing white wash far below. The evening wind whipped her hair about her shoulders and tugged at her shirt. Her feet longed to stand upon solid land or anything that wasn’t in perpetual motion. Ehka clutched the bannisters, constantly trying to find balance as the ship swayed. He was bored too. The journey had become tiresome, and now, rather than being nervous about the coming battle, all she wanted to do was get there. Every day that passed provided more opportunities for Baelthrom to discover them.
Now it was officially winter, the days were shorter too. Travel by night was slow as the captains pored over charts fearful of striking unseen rocks or islands. Thankfully, here in the South, winter was mild, warm by her standards, but the weather was unpredictable. Strange winds often blasted in any direction, and the sea was turbulent and uneasy.
Storms were common on these seas, so the captain said, and if the wind blew east like it had the other day, it brought with it the frigid cold of the Everridge Mountains. If the wind blew west, it brought raging storms, and no sane captain dared travel the Straights. Dangerous storms from Venosia and the sick sky that covers it, thought Issa. Unnatural storms.
The wind currently blew mostly in their favour from the south-east, bringing warm, humid weather from the South.
Issa sighed and stroked Ehka. ‘It can’t be far now, Ehka. As soon as we see the Devil’s Horns, you’ll wish we hadn’t. Still no Freydel, no Marakon, and no Asaph. But at least the other wizards are with us.’
It was poor consolation. She felt let down on many fronts. Asaph could at least have turned up to keep her company on the journey. Cabin fever had set in far too early. But she would be a fool to let her guard down. Any moment those vicious black spikes could appear, ready to tear into their hulls and rip out their keels.
‘All right,’ she sighed again. ‘How about we do another scout?’
The bird garbled acquiescence and ruffled his feathers.
‘Now remember, don’t ever lose sight of the ship.’ Issa got down into her usual cross-legged position and closed her eyes focussing on the ever-present connection to her feathered guardian. No one paid her any attention now; the crew and passengers were used to her odd behaviour and her strange pet.
Ehka cawed and she felt him jump off the railing and lift into the air, then she was seeing through his eyes. The ship fell away, a floating island in a turbulent, deep blue sea. Around it, more ships ploughed the waves, and behind them followed hundreds more.
Ehka faced east to a darkening horizon. The boredom was swept from her mind and a sense of foreboding grew. She tried not to think about the four horsemen or the Light Eaters or the white raven.
Ehka flew far to the East until their ship was just a speck on the horizon, but he never lost sight of it completely. The sky turned dark tinged with red. She sensed the bird’s reluctance to go further.
‘There they are!’ she said in her mind, knowing he could hear her.
Barely visible dark streaks speared up through the ocean’s surface far on the horizon. Ehka flew closer, and sure enough there were the Devil’s Horns. Waves frothed around their jagged bases and there seemed hundreds more than she remembered; a monstrous hedgehog sunk beneath the waves, waiting for its prey. She felt sick.
Red lightning flared across the sky and thunder cracked making her jump even from this distance. Did Baelthrom know they were coming? Were they sailing into a trap? She imagined the skies opening, the dark clouds peeling back and the four horsemen charging out of the sky. Ehka cawed and she forced the image away, hoping he hadn’t seen her dark imaginings too.
‘You’d better come back. Looks like tonight everything changes.’
Issa’s heart beat faster as the red horizon approached. This night, no one would be sleeping. She stood at the prow, re-dressed in her Dread Dragon armour with Ehka on her shoulder. Velonorian stood to her right and Naksu to her left, gripping her white staff. Both she and the seer stood in the Flow.
Velonorian was not an accomplished magic wielder, but like all elves, he held a natural ability of his own and his Elven nature magic shimmered ready in his aura. He was dressed in Elven armour of hardened leather that allowed more free movement than the plate armour of the Feylint Halanoi. He wore the new Elven tabard created by Orphinius; dark green with a golden tree upon it. Sheyengetha, she thought. Gateway to the Elven Land of Mists. With a pang she wished Averen, the Elven High Wizard, were here. They needed all the wizards they could get. Including Freydel, she grimaced.
Behind them, on the other ships, she felt the wizards of the Circle standing powerfully in the Flow. Haelgon was surrounded by Atalanph warriors; Drumblodd was much further back with his dwarven ships; Luren was far away, catching them up with his medley of Lans Himay brigands, mercenaries and warriors. The wilting young wizard had become an unlikely advisor to the barbarians of the north. There were many other wizards and magic wielders, but none held the power of those of the Wizards’ Circle, or the seer by her side.
A powerful flaming aura entered the Flow making her start. Domenon? The Master Wizard was somewhere behind on the Elven ships. Next to Orphinius, no doubt. Wherever there was an orb of power, there’d be Domenon. And perhaps that was a good thing. The orb needed the protection of a powerful wizard.
Still, Orphinius was ill-equipped to protect the Orb of Earth that had been thrust into his hands at the death of Daranarta, leader of the Elves. And, in his lack of wisdom, he’d assigned Domenon as its Second Keeper. How this was all going to unfold, she could only worry about.
‘Domenon is with us,’ said Issa.
Naksu smiled in surprise. ‘Indeed he is, somewhere upon the Elven ships. That wizard is a master of appearing and disappearing.’
‘So is Freydel, it would seem.’ Issa forced a half-smile.
‘He will come,’ said Naksu, nodding. Issa did not share the seer’s positivity. Naksu did not know how often or why he was visiting Ayeth.
Issa glanced up at the sky. The muddy clouds had long since swallowed up the white ones, but under this red sky, night had not fully fallen, and the dull red light gave them something to see by, at least.
The air had become thick and heavy, but not with moisture. She didn’t know what it was, only that it was hard to breathe and somehow it tasted stale. Already, she longed to be away from this place.
‘Two hours to the Devil’s Horns,’ the Captain barked, making everyone jump as he stalked the decks.
‘Captain, the ships are in formation. Please hold this course.’ Commander Septarn walked up the stairs trailed by his officers. The tall commander bowed slightly to Issa. His long white hair was tied back with a black bow and his commander’s hat was tucked under one arm.
The captain nodded but said nothing, his face set in a scowl of worry for his vessel.
The ships had been brought into several arrow-shaped formations with one leading the rest of its battalion. Issa’s battalion was ahead of the others, and her ship was forefront.
‘You and your wizards better have a bloody good plan,’ the captain said to her, his grey eyes hard.
‘Just thank the goddess Bae
lthrom appears to be unaware of ours plans,’ she said. ‘Otherwise this sky would be filled with Dread Dragons—and it wouldn’t be two hours to the Devil’s Horns, more like one hour to the bottom of the ocean.’
The captain paled, and whatever the commander had been about to say died on his lips for he, too, closed his mouth.
‘Thank you, Commander Septarn,’ she nodded to him. ‘Your expert knowledge on these affairs is well received. Whatever happens—magic or otherwise—prepare for battle as soon as we reach those spikes. Now we have briefed our crews, the way will become known to us when we need it.’ She hoped to the goddess she was right.
The commander pursed his lips, seeming to struggle with this. ‘My Lady, it’s not the way of a battle commander to rely upon the whims of the gods. Battle tactics require clear and absolute planning—’
Issa cut him off. ‘I—we magic wielders—understand this well, Commander. However, what we have been doing until now has not been working. Please, let us not discuss this again. Now we must trust, and the way will become known to us. We have the most powerful wizards and seers amongst us,’ and there should have been Freydel with his orb! The Wykiry had better be right! ‘along with three orbs of power. This is unheard of in the history of Maioria. It may be hard, but sometimes you have to place your trust in something more than military skill and weapons.’
She tried to remain understanding, for the commander’s fears were her own. She wanted assurances and absolutes but there were none. She was actually relying everything upon a dream given to her by the Wykiry—a dream to trust in the orb of power she held. In a way it was a test; the orb was testing her strength.
War of the Raven Queen: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 6 Page 5