‘Any news of Freydel?’ asked Domenon, hands raised and still commanding the Flow. The wizard pushed his hands forwards as a Dread Dragon hailed fire. A shield of white flared over the elves below, protecting them from the flames.
‘No,’ said Issa, her voice equally strained as she clenched her hands into claws. The magic she commanded ripped a bunker wall from the earth and smashed it down upon a horde of Maphraxies. Those not crushed, fled.
Domenon lowered his hands, his gaze never leaving the battlefield and the Flow into which he looked. ‘Then it seems the Master Wizard has deserted us in our hour of need. The Wizards’ Circle will need to consider this most seriously, should we survive this assault.’
Issa pursed her lips. Domenon was right. ‘I can’t help but feel betrayed,’ she said under her breath.
‘There’s no point wasting any emotion on it. If you expect nothing from people, you will never be disappointed. Humans are untrustworthy and weak in the face of power.’ Domenon lifted one hand and a knot of fire surged from it, striking a Maphraxie about to behead a stumbling dwarf.
‘Not all humans,’ said Issa, grimacing. Did he really consider so little of his own race? The Flow shimmered and weakened.
The Dromoorai hovered in the sky, their eyes and amulets flaring in unison. ‘What’s happening?’ Issa blurted, suddenly feeling dizzy.
A wave of black energy swept across the battlefield. The Flow scattered. It bled from Issa’s grasp and her orb turned dull. Wind tore across the cove, howling through the cracks and crevices. Clouds rolled like waves and lightning cracked. Everyone on the battlefield fell to the ground. Asaph and his dragons rolled in the air as if they were in the ocean and struggled to stay airborne. Issa dropped to her knees and Domenon growled. She squinted through the tearing wind, holding her hands up and trying to control the Flow.
The only person left standing on the entire battlefield, was Orphinius. Everyone lay prone around him, even the enemy. Nobody was able to get up or move, not even Orphinius. The only things able to move were the two Dromoorai directly above him.
The paralysed Elven Orb Keeper stared up at his impending doom. Issa felt sick.
The colour drained from Domenon’s face. ‘He has found it,’ rasped the Master Wizard.
A strange deep whispering boomed in Issa’s head, plucking at her heart and mind.
‘Dark Dwarven. Don’t listen to it!’ screamed Naksu.
Issa clamped her hands over her ears, shutting out the sound of the necromantic spell being woven. She watched helpless as a Dread Dragon reached a claw down to Orphinius. She was aware of Domenon screaming. She sensed him trying to reach the Flow and failing. She couldn’t even think to try.
Protect the orbs at all costs. Protect the orbs! Her inner voice screamed helplessly.
Orphinius began to struggle against something. In jerking movements, his hands lifted up the flaring Orb of Earth towards the Dromoorai. The Dread Dragon wrapped its huge claws around him, lifted him into the air and squeezed. Orphinius’ terrible scream became a sickening gurgle and blood spurted from his mouth, splashing over his pale skin and golden tree tabard.
Issa watched in horror as the Dread Dragon dropped the elf’s limp body. The orb rolled from his flaccid grasp and lay, shining gold, in the growing pool of bright red blood.
Domenon roared. Issa felt the immense strain of the Master Wizard in the Flow. Incredibly, the magic moved to him. Veins bulged on the wizard’s neck and forehead, and his face contorted with pain and rage. He held up his hands in a grasping motion.
He’s trying to reach the orb! She gripped her orb and talisman, trickling to him what little of the Flow she could draw. It came as a dribble, and then in greater waves. Naksu saw what she was doing and did the same.
The Dromoorai jumped off the dragon’s back and landed on the ground with a thud, unafraid of the legions of Feylint Halanoi prone and paralysed around it. It moved in slow motion, its amulet blazing with the gaze of Baelthrom, and reached down to the orb.
The Orb of Earth trembled in the Flow. More magic! She needed just a little more magic! The pressure in her head grew and her pulse pounded in her ears as she strained against the Under Flow to bring more of Maioria’s living magic to them. The Orb of Earth shuddered, lifted an inch off the ground and trembled in the air. The Dromoorai’s gauntleted fist touched its surface and the Under Flow blazed.
Domenon screamed, all his power surged forwards. Gasping for each breath, he drew his hands back as if pulling on something immensely heavy. The orb flared then shot towards him, a blazing ball of light streaking straight to Domenon’s out-stretched hand.
The Secondary Keeper of the Orb of Earth caught it and the world stood still. Beatific wonder spread over Domenon’s face. The Dromoorai roared, head back, fists clenched. The Under Flow and the Flow shuddered violently, confused at the power change.
The rapture on the Master Wizard’s face wavered and then he screamed in utter agony.
‘Domenon!’ Issa’s face contorted, and she ran towards him.
The orb flared, golden magic exploded from it, flinging her back against the rocks. Winded, she rolled to her knees. Domenon whirled left and right, screaming and thrashing as the orb in his grasp flared chaotically. It appeared that he could not release his grip. Her orb responded and flashed sky blue. On the other side of the battlefield, Drumblodd’s Orb of Fire flared fiery orange. Immense elemental magic forces, mixed with the Under Flow, ripped across the land.
Domenon thrashed and howled. Impossibly, his body began to grow. His entire form distorted and bent. Issa covered her mouth, reminded of Keteth when he morphed into a hundred beasts.
The wizard’s face grew larger and his mouth and nose began to elongate. His arms and legs swelled with muscles and his fingernails became thick claws. A tail sprouted from his lower back and great horns began to protrude from his forehead. The Master Wizard screamed and thrashed in violent agony but still he held the orb as if it would not let go of him.
His body was impossibly huge now, filling the area where they had stood and rubbing up against the cliff face. His smooth skin began to section and turn into scales, and its tone changed from peach to bluish white.
A flare of bright light engulfed him completely, abruptly ending his howls.
Domenon was gone. Instead Issa stared at an enormous ice-blue dragon.
With a sound like a cork being drawn from a bottle, the orb ripped itself from the dragon’s grasp and flew straight at her.
Through no will of her own, her right hand dropped the raven talisman and reached to catch the orb. Her hand met its hot surface and immense power coursed through her as she held two orbs.
She could barely breathe as she struggled to hold them both. Her world turned into blazing fields of magic. The Flow raged through her, furiously thrusting back the Under Flow. Time fell away, there was only the Flow and its will as it filled and consumed her.
Through the torrent, she was surprised to feel gentle minds pressing on her own. Wykiry? They were in the bay, she realised. The magic burden lessened. Something they were doing.
Another presence joined her in the Flow, equally soft and gentle. Naksu? The magic burden lifted a little more, the torrent calmed.
Then she felt Haelgon, Drumblodd and Luren too, all seeking to help her hold the immense magic of the two orbs. She felt herself sinking, floating down like a feather in a world of magic where darkness clawed at the edges.
The Under Flow slammed into Asaph, knocking his dragon magic so forcefully from him it sent his body and mind into spasms. Pennarc’s back quivered and Garna tossed her head.
He gathered his senses and followed Garna’s rapid descent. They flew low over the anchored ships and landed on a spit of land reaching out from the beach. The Dromoorai he had been fighting had turned back towards the battlefield, no longer interested in him now new commands from Baelthrom had been issued.
Asaph shook himself and tried to decipher what was going on. Where
was Issa? Was she in immediate danger? He looked to where he had left her beside Naksu and Domenon, and saw the flash of immense magical power. The golden and emerald Orb of Earth suddenly flew from the battlefield to Domenon’s out-stretched hand and flared. The ground trembled.
Asaph watched, stunned, as the Master Wizard struggled against an immense force and then began to morph right before his eyes. The wizard writhed and groaned, his howls audible even from here. His hand and forearm holding the orb began to smoke and turn black, then he grew to impossible proportions.
There came another blinding flare. When it faded, in the place of Domenon stood the enormous form of Morhork. The unmistakable jagged scars along his back where his wings should have been, still angry and red after thousands of years.
Asaph’s jaw dropped open as he stared at the ice-blue dragon. A hundred things now fell into place in his mind. All the little things the wizard had said, his hostility towards Asaph, his interest in Issa, his strange disappearance. Asaph inhaled sharply, he needed time to sit down and think, to piece it all together into one big coherent picture.
‘The dragon mind I felt but couldn’t see,’ said Garna, her eyes wide. ‘And yet the man is not a Dragon Lord. What magic has occurred here? This is Morhork and yet this is far beyond the design of a dragon.’
Rust landed heavily beside them bleeding freely from his shoulder. Pennarc hovered just above, ready to attack.
‘Morhork was always the master planner. While we’ve been sleeping, he’s been busy,’ said Rust.
The Elven Orb of Earth tore itself from the dragon’s blackened claw and flew straight to Issa. She caught it, the Flow trembled, then rushed towards her. The ice-blue dragon gave an ear-splitting roar filled with absolute rage. His howl turned into one of terrible anguish. He sprang into the air using magic to lift his wingless body, then shot into the sky, moving so fast he was a streak of blue.
His howl was followed by the equally enraged screams of Dread Dragons. More of them had arrived. The two Dromoorai closest, turned to Issa. The other descended upon Drumblodd on the far side of battlefield. The soldiers and Maphraxies who had been flattened on the battlefield now rose to their feet.
‘The fight’s not nearly done! Protect Issa and the orbs,’ Asaph growled and launched himself into the air. The other dragons followed.
With his brood, Asaph attacked the Dromoorai descending on Issa, snapping, clawing, flaming, driving them back into the air. The roars of each dragon gave the others power and fury. Always, in the recollection, Asaph had witnessed the fight for Draxa, flying in the sky and fighting alongside dragon and Dragon Lord, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it, the glory of it. Even if he died in pain and agony, it was worth it—he was dragon, this was his glorious might.
He could hear his brood’s thoughts and intentions as if they had one shared mind. He saw what they saw, as if the Recollection lay like an open book between them. Their ability to work and fight as one now made them devastating.
The first Dread Dragon, it wings flaming shreds, fell to the ground, crushing the Maphraxies beneath it. Garna harried the other that was fleeing south. Pennarc had split off and was locked into a struggle with the third on the clifftop above the cove. Asaph lifted into the air to help, but the green dragon already had it by the throat in a death grip. The Dread Dragon thrashed in its death throes, spraying watery grey blood.
Lifting higher above the cliffs, he looked east. More Dromoorai came, just specks in the distance. Between them, a thousand Maphraxies marched. The Flow pulsed, capturing his attention. He turned, hunting for the source, and saw scores of Atalanph ships anchoring in the next cove. Already marching from the cove were legions of Atalanph soldiers, their tabards—a yellow sun on white—fresh and shining.
Asaph’s heart lifted, there was hope. But the flash of light in the Flow had come from neither of these. There below, on the cliffs between two coves, galloped a lone figure holding a crystal staff aloft. He felt a powerful wizard’s mind. Freydel?
The man looked up at him and started, his horse whinnying. He whirled his staff in greeting. Finally he had come, Issa would be pleased. Asaph stayed close to protect him but there were no enemies near.
The wizard crested the ridge above Issa and slowed his horse. He held his black orb high and commanded the Flow. Light beamed from him in two directions, towards Drumblodd and towards Issa. When it reached the two orb holders the magic flared again then burst between Issa and Drumblodd, spanning the entire battlefield in a giant triangle.
There came a mighty blaze of light, blinding Asaph. The Dromoorai and Maphraxies above and beneath that triangle of light, shrieked, dropped their weapons and fled.
Asaph laughed bouts of fire as the enemy deserted the battlefield. Seeing sport, Asaph dove and harried them, burning them with fire and making sure they didn’t stop. Out of the cove they ran. Asaph paused, not wanting to follow them further and risk those behind him. With a final look at the fleeing enemy and those in the distance who were approaching, he turned back to Issa.
8
Precreative Power
The sound of groaning, twisting metal came again as the Flow left her.
Above, red clouds boiled then began to part. Issa shut her eyes, not wanting to see the gaping black tear of the Dark Rift beyond.
‘No,’ she shook her head. The horsemen would find her soon, and the Light Eaters.
‘Issa,’ a familiar voice called from far away.
Asaph? She should go to him.
‘There she is! I can reach her now,’ said another familiar voice.
Freydel?
The Flow wrapped itself around her, a warm blanket of light that dragged her away from the noise. People’s voices became clearer, closer. She blinked. The world of magic disappeared, and two faces came into view. First Asaph appeared, wearing a frown that crinkled the dirt and blood smearing his cheeks and forehead; then Freydel's smiling face followed, deep lines creasing his face and shadows smudging his eyes. He looked like he had aged ten years in the last month.
Issa sighed. I’m safe, for a time. But she could still feel the horsemen, out there, hunting.
‘Urgh, what happened? I feel like I’ve been trampled by a herd of horses.’ Issa sat up and everything wobbled.
‘Magic exhaustion,’ said Freydel.
‘Here drink this.’ Asaph passed her a bowl of something steaming and some corn bread.
She wasn’t hungry but she took the bowl and began to eat, hoping it would bring back some strength. Her hands shook as she lifted each spoonful.
The day was lighter than before, night must have ended in the time she had been out. She was in a make-shift tent and the tarp door flapped in the wind. Outside, she caught glimpses of a hive of activity; big men shifting rubble, wounded soldiers carried on stretchers, horses pulling small wagons.
‘We have a brief respite and so we’re making this place as habitable as possible,’ explained Asaph. ‘We’ve gained a foothold on Venosia and we need to make sure we can keep it.
‘Haelgon says Atalanph forces have secured several more coves south, though this is the largest. There are tunnels beneath the earth connecting them all, which can serve our needs now the Dark Dwarves have been eliminated from them. You know they’re already calling this place Port Issa?’ Asaph grinned.
She smiled. ‘I didn’t know we could do this. I hoped, but… Freydel, you came. You look exhausted.’ All her previous anger and disappointment at her former tutor washed away as she looked at the weary, stooped figure.
The Master Wizard settled down on the stool beside her pallet. ‘Exhausted, yes, but I’ll be all right in time. I returned via the Wizards’ Circle, and from there, came here. I had help, of course.’ He gave a knowing wink.
Issa couldn’t form a smile, but at least he was being honest about being with Ayeth.
‘It’s lucky you came when you did,’ said Asaph, nervously smoothing a hand through his hair. ‘With three orb holders d
own and another legion of Maphraxies on the way, we were in a right mess.’
‘It was the Orb of Death,’ Issa recalled. ‘I felt it reach for me, then it connected my orbs to each other. A great magical force. It was all so surreal. I’m so tired.’
‘The enemy fled,’ Asaph laughed. ‘I’ve never seen Dread Dragons scatter.’
‘And Domenon,’ Issa whispered.
Asaph looked into the middle distance. ‘Yes, there’s a lot that needs to be made sense of.’
‘That Master Wizard is a Master no longer,’ Freydel said, his look turning dark.
Can you unmake a wizard? Issa wondered. Is he really a dragon? To her surprise, she found she wasn’t angry with Domenon. But how could he be a dragon—be Morhork—and not be a Dragon Lord? The whole confusing thing made no sense. Besides, Freydel kept his own secrets too. She kept her thoughts to herself as Freydel continued in a weak voice.
‘With Asaph’s help, I’ve been piecing it together, and it makes so much sense now.’
‘It doesn’t to me,’ Issa snorted.
‘This is what appears to have occurred.’ Freydel smoothed his robes. ‘When Orphinius was killed, the orb was placed in terrible danger. It did what it is naturally inclined to do, sought out its Secondary Keeper, in this instance, Domenon. That wizard’s magic is great to be able to override the immense power of the Under Flow. And now we know why. A pure-blood dragon’s magic is most potent.
‘Well, anyway, the orb went to him. When it touched his hand it tried to meld with him, to understand its Keeper intimately, as orbs are wont to do. But Domenon was not true. The form his mind inhabited was not pure. And orbs cannot tolerate deception. It saw him for what he was, and so forced the man to become the dragon he should be. But herein lies something fascinating! The orb was bound to Domenon, the man, not this dragon—what’s his name?’
War of the Raven Queen: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 6 Page 9