War of the Raven Queen: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 6

by Araya Evermore

  This tiny boat now accommodated over five hundred soldiers and their horses and mounts, including Duskar. Issa thanked the goddess the Sea of Opportunity was always calm in this open-topped vessel.

  Forcing her eyes open, she bent forward to Murlonius.

  ‘My heart bleeds, for they took Yisufalni.’ Her voice was barely a whisper.

  He nodded ever so slightly, his face lost in the folds of the hood that he hadn’t even bothered to push back, even though age no longer touched him.

  ‘I could not save her,’ she explained. ‘Domenon saved me—’

  He cut her off. ‘I know, Raven Queen,’ he rasped, raw anguish in his voice. ‘I tried to follow, to lure them to me, but they got away. I chased them to the edges of Maphrax where I lost her.

  ‘When they eventually came back for me, I did not run, I stayed. I wanted them to take me, I wanted them to kill me. Either I will be with her or I shall die.

  ‘I turned myself into ether and it took me near half a year as time passes in the Ethereal Planes to pull myself back together again. So many months have passed and still this body is frail and spent! I almost expected them to follow me into the ethers, but something happened, and they turned away. They left. I don’t know why nor where they went but they have not returned. When they do, I’ll be ready.’

  ‘The Hall of Memories,’ Issa whispered. ‘They left you and came for me, and there was Lona and my sister…it doesn’t matter. Please, Murlonius, do not surrender yourself to them. Come with us, fight with us. If we lose you both, the orbs can never be recombined. She’s not dead, I have felt her, she’s within the orb. You must stay alive and together we’ll try to save her.’

  Murlonius gave a long low chuckle as he rowed, an odd, hopeless sound. ‘Valiant Raven Queen, I have nothing left to give and no fight remains within me. It’s all gone now. Do you really think we can just walk into Maphrax and take the orbs for ourselves?’

  Issa shook her head, his hopelessness infectious. How could they get the orbs? How could they ever defeat Baelthrom? Lona would kill her before she ever set foot on Maphrax. ‘I don’t know how,’ she whispered.

  In her mind an image of a great battle formed. Soldiers and Maphraxies fighting on a ravaged plane under a thunderous sky. Baelthrom standing omnipotent on one side, and she, seated atop Duskar, upon the other. The Hall of Memories…I see a great battle that will destroy us all before the end.

  ‘Yes, there will be great destruction before the end.’ Murlonius nodded and she realised then that she had spoken aloud. ‘Rest, Raven Queen. Our lives are still our own, and you have a long journey before you. Heed the White Raven, Raven Queen.’

  His voice faded as sleep overcame her. She drifted uneasy over an endless plane of shimmering light.

  26

  Foreboding Dreams

  It was the deathly cold that awoke Issa, followed by the rough rocking of the boat as soldiers disembarked.

  As frost bit deep into her fingers, she shivered, and Ehka buried himself into her lap when she tried to lift him up. So long had she been in the South and the strange wastelands of Venosia, she had forgotten what real winter was, but having never travelled further north than Frayon, she was utterly frozen. She hugged Ehka in her arms, grateful for his warmth.

  Asaph pulled her to her feet. ‘Come on, we’re here, and you need a hat and gloves.’ He took her free hand into his surprisingly warm one.

  ‘I can’t imagine how cold Drax must be,’ she stammered, blinking. Even her eyes felt frozen. ‘Where is here?’

  They disembarked onto a beach, to the right of which rose the hulk of a great harbour where huge sconces burned bright along the harbour walls. Stars twinkled icily in the frigid sky and there were no moons to offer more light.

  Her feet plunged into the frozen water and she was glad for the water resistance of her boots, although by the time she had taken the few steps to shore, she could no longer feel her feet. She turned back to Murlonius who stood silent and shrouded at the helm of his boat. She stepped back into the water towards him and gripped the side of the vessel as the last soldier disembarked.

  ‘Please, for all our sakes, don’t give in. We can find Yisufalni, I’m sure of it—she’s not dead. We can be free, all of us.’ But Murlonius did not reply, nor did he even nod. Instead, he drifted away from the shore and the mist engulfed him.

  ‘Come, Issa, you’ll freeze to death,’ said Asaph dragging her back to the shore. ‘He knows what he has to do better than any of us.’ She reluctantly turned away from the fading mist.

  Marakon led them along the outer walls of the harbour and port, through the endless rows of well-ordered, semi-permanent tents and shacks to the Feylint Halanoi barracks. It took some time to find anything empty; the place had swelled with refugees from Lans Himay, but a section of tents had been vacated by a unit of soldiers who were on expedition.

  Eventually, Issa and Asaph found a tent for themselves and they huddled against each other for warmth in the few hours that were left before dawn.

  Sleep evaded her as she worried about Yisufalni and Murlonius, his words tumbling over and over in her mind. ‘Heed the White Raven, Raven Queen.’ When sleep finally came, it brought with it disturbing dreams.

  It was very dark.

  In the distance, a drumbeat—a single, slow beat, like the rhythm of a heart, like the drums of war. The cold seared her nose and fingers—so icy it burned. A frigid wind blew, and she shivered, hugging her arms, arms that were bare. She looked down and saw she was naked, but where had she left her clothes?

  The cold now came from within, starting in her stomach and radiating out through every cell in painful waves.

  ‘Light,’ she commanded, but her orb and talisman were gone, and the Flow wasn’t there. She stumbled along stony ground, peering into the night.

  Something moved, a white wing flapped, feathers starkly bright in the blackness. The white owl? Issa paused, her heart pounding.

  Dawn spread a grey light and the bird turned and cawed at her – not a nice sound but an angry grating one. Issa stared at the white raven, its white beak, even its white legs. It watched her with pale, unblinking eyes. The pain in her stomach grew worse, an intense, icy, stabbing pain, that made her double over. She struggled to breathe as something smothered her, dark and powerful like the Under Flow. She choked and clawed for air.

  ‘Issa, what is it? Wake up!’ A voice commanded from afar.

  Issa forced opened her eyes mid-choke and stared up at Asaph. The pain in her stomach eased and she found she could breathe again. She lay gulping in the cold air. It was light in the tent, and his tanned skin radiated warmth.

  ‘It was just a dream,’ he said, smoothing back her hair. She shivered. Her frozen fingers hadn’t managed to warm themselves since they’d arrived. ‘Look, you’re freezing. You need a thick cloak and gloves. We’ll get them today. It’s past dawn and I can smell breakfast already.’ He rubbed his taut belly. Sure enough the smell of toast and coffee wafted agreeably in from somewhere.

  ‘Just a dream,’ Issa echoed, still seeing the white raven in the darkness, still feeling faint stabs of pain in her stomach. She tried to push the foreboding dream aside, but the ominous feelings remained.

  Asaph kissed her on the cheek and pushed himself onto his feet. He pulled her unwilling and groaning body up beside him and together they dressed, pulling on every item of clothing that they possessed.

  Asaph stepped outside, eagerly following his nose, then sheered back, startled.

  Twenty or so unarmed Draxians stood before his tent, dressed warmly in furs and armour. Some were sitting on the frozen grass but seeing him, all stood and eyed him eagerly, the ones at the back straining to get a better look.

  Velonorian emerged from the tent next to theirs, his sensitive hearing must have heard him getting up.

  ‘Are they still here?’ sighed the elf. ‘Sir Asaph Dragon Lord, I tried to get them to leave at dawn, but they would not. Now even more have come.’
<
br />   A Draxian with long red hair walked forwards, his helmet tucked under an arm. He spoke nervously. ‘Sir, uh, is it true what those from Venosia have said?’

  Issa stepped out beside Asaph. ‘Oh,' she said and looked at him. He shrugged and spread his palms.

  ‘He called him Dragon Lord,’ said a fair-haired Draxian woman, pointing at Velonorian. She removed her helmet and a thick braid of flaxen hair swung over her shoulder. More Draxians emerged from between the tents to stare at him. Asaph's cheeks grew hot.

  ‘He looks Draxian,’ said another man coming closer, his heavy furs making him look even more enormous than he was already. ‘So, the fighter from Frayon did not lie. This is he, the one he fought and to whom he has pledged his life. Behold the last Dragon Lord, behold our King!’

  Asaph’s mind raced as all the Draxians dropped to one knee. He thought of Leaper and his loyal men, was that who the man was talking about?

  Issa grabbed his arm when he went to stop them. ‘Don’t,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Let them do this. They need this. They need you, their King, they need something to believe in.’

  Asaph held her gaze before nodding. She looked so regal and wise just then, so different from the broken girl he’d found on the shores of the Shadowlands. They had both changed a lot in a short time, he thought, they had grown strong.

  Awkwardly, Asaph reached down and gripped the first man’s arm, raising him to his feet. At his motion the others stood. Two, who he recognised from Venosia, came forwards.

  ‘All who are Draxian, in whole or in part, now know you have returned to us,’ said the one with red hair, his face solemn. ‘More come every day fleeing the war ravaging Lans Himay. That land is gone. Now we’ll fight to take another, the one we should never have lost.’ Tears filled the man’s eyes and he clenched his fist and held it high—just like Coronos had once done after a victory against the goblins in Kuapoh lands. The others followed the gesture and Asaph slowly followed.

  ‘We will fight,’ said Asaph, the passion for his homeland rising. ‘We will fight for Drax once more, until it is ours or we are all dead and free to join our ancestors.’

  The Draxians cheered, startling him with their ferocity. Other non-Draxians came close to see the spectacle.

  ‘Asaph?’ said a familiar voice.

  A wiry man with a scar and tied-back fair hair pushed through the crowd.

  ‘Leaper?’ The two men laughed and slapped each other’s shoulders.

  Asaph pushed the man back to look at him. ‘I can see you’re well. How are you here? You got my message?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. King Navarr got your message and he discharged us immediately to go north. He said we are your men now. We’re loyal to you, King Asaph. We’re all here, ready and waiting for your word.’

  Other non-Draxians came forward, smiles forming on their faces. Green-eyed Danny, Renno the giant, dark-haired Jekk and quick-eyed Blaise. They were all fully armoured and armed, and wearing the Feylint Halanoi tabard.

  ‘And this is your beautiful maiden?’ asked Leaper. He took Issa’s hand and bent low to kiss it, making her blush crimson.

  ‘Issa, yes,’ Asaph grinned at her. ‘Issalena Kammy.’

  ‘Your Dragon Rider,’ said the closest Draxian, nodding approvingly. ‘Everything is complete, we’re all gathered together, now is the time.’

  ‘When do we leave for our homeland, my King?’ asked the Draxian from Venosia.

  Asaph opened and closed his mouth. ‘At least let’s wait until after breakfast,’ he said. Everyone laughed, and he felt foolish—certainly he didn’t feel like the King he was supposed to be.

  ‘We already have Frayonesse ships waiting for us in the harbour, courtesy of King Navarr. We just need to know how many will be boarding,’ said Leaper.

  Issa giggled when Asaph rubbed his beard, struggling to come up with a plan. He side-glanced her, eyebrow raised.

  ‘Let’s have a meeting with Marakon after breakfast and formulate the details of our battle plan?’ she offered.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Asaph clapping his hands together. ‘We’ll meet at dusk on the west side of the encampment, beside the forest, and there I’ll brief you.’

  His belly growled hungrily and with relief he watched the reluctant crowd leave to return to their duties. Leaper stayed at his side and showed them through the tents to the food hall. Velonorian accompanied Issa, chatting to her as they walked. Asaph only half-listened as the elf taught her the words for ice and snow in Elven.

  ‘Lin farna means ice. You could say it means hard cold. Els farna means snow.’

  ‘Soft cold?’ Issa offered.

  ‘You got it,’ Velonorian laughed.

  Asaph surveyed the encampment. The number of people and soldiers and tents was staggering. In the distance, he could see a long line of people, old and young, dressed smartly or in rags, queuing before several desks where Feylint Halanoi commanders recorded their names and professions.

  ‘Scores come each day,’ said Leaper nodding to the war-torn people. ‘Some have such bad injuries you wonder how they made it this far.’

  Asaph felt deeply sorry for them, especially when he picked out the Draxians amongst them. A people who’d already lost one homeland had now lost their second. ‘We’ll give them all a new land to go to,’ he swore, clenching his jaw.

  27

  The Way of Dragons

  With Asaph’s help, Issa heaved the dragon harness onto his enormous back just as the morning sun burst through the trees, its rays touching his golden scales, making them shine.

  Asaph shoved the harness up with his shoulder blades and wriggled it into the place where it felt the most comfortable. It had taken them at least half an hour in the frigid dawn light to carry the harness into a clearing where he could change into a dragon without causing alarm.

  She gathered the long dangling straps, the frozen ground crunching underneath her Dread Dragon boots—not even dragon skin could protect her from this cold. She looped the straps around his torso and tightened them.

  ‘It’s not uncomfortable, just unusual,’ he said, still wriggling around. ‘Hopefully I’ll get used to it.’

  ‘They said you would,’ said Issa, eyeing the whole set up critically and fighting back the dread of actually getting into the thing. Ehka landed on the harness and began inspecting it thoroughly.

  The sun fell fully on the glade, causing a cold mist to rise from the thawing forest floor. She raised her face and enjoyed the warm rays.

  ‘Well, I guess we may as well get going. The others will be boarding the ships, and some may have already left,’ said Asaph, looking up at the sky. Heavy snow clouds drifted in the north.

  Issa took a deep breath and went to the main rope, then hesitated. Asaph looked at her quizzically.

  ‘It’s not that I’m afraid of flying…it’s just that the white raven is warning me of something,’ she said. Though the sense of foreboding had waned, it was still there, lurking. She didn’t think it had anything to do with flying on Asaph’s back, but the whole premonition had left her on edge.

  ‘It was just a dream,’ rumbled Asaph.

  ‘Although, right this moment, getting on that ship with Marakon and the others seems like a great idea.’ She forced a smile and pulled on a strap. ‘Anyway, how can you trust this thing?’

  ‘I trust their design. It’s the same as I see in the Recollection, only more beautiful. It’s better, if anything, and will be even betterer with you in it.’ The dragon tried to smile but ended up simply displaying his enormous fangs.

  Issa’s eyes widened, and he stopped smiling.

  ‘If you fall off, you can always turn into a raven,’ he chuckled.

  She gave him a withering look.

  A heavy cloud passed in front of the sun and wispy flakes of snow began to fall. A chill wind blew, and she wrapped her thick cloak closer and did up more of the clasps. It was well made, a beautiful, deep royal blue and had soft, fluffy white trims and cuffs. Asaph had
bought it for her in Port Nordastin with the gold Coronos had left to him. It wasn’t cheap—the most she’d ever spent on clothing—but he’d insisted and now she was very grateful for it. She pulled on her matching gloves and flexed her hands for warmth.

  Taking a deep breath, she awkwardly inched herself up the rope in the same manner she had seen Coronos do, by walking up the dragon’s side. Sweating, she flopped into the seat, became entangled in a strap, and nearly fell out the other side. Flailing wildly she accidentally booted Ehka off his perch. The raven flew into the air squawking.

  ‘Sorry!’ she called.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Asaph struggled to see behind him.

  ‘N-n-n-nothing,’ gasped Issa as she righted herself. Finally, she found where her feet should go and what she should hang on to. A gust of wind blew, and heavier snow cascaded down. She pulled up her hood over her hat and caught her breath.

  ‘I’ll bet it’s even colder up there.’ She looked up at the heavy grey clouds swiftly covering the deep blue sky.

  ‘If you get cold, I can always breathe fire on you,’ Asaph laughed.

  ‘You’re full of fun this morning,’ Issa grumbled. ‘Are you sure it’s like spring in Yis? I might be able to thaw out once we get there.’

  ‘Yes, it’s beautiful, like nowhere else you have seen.’ Asaph’s voice was full of wonder. ‘You’ll meet the other dragons and won’t want to leave—none of us ever do. But it’s not Draxa, my real home; it’s my dragon home I guess.

  ‘At least five dragons will aid us in Draxa, but I pray to Feygriene there’ll be more. To take Drax fully, we’ll need all the help we can get.’

  ‘It’s a long way for the ships,’ said Issa, thinking about the plans they had made with the others all day yesterday and deep into the night. Marakon would lead the knights, soldiers, Draxian exiles and Navadin to Drax. They would sail up the west coast straight to Draxa, during which time Asaph and the dragons would have secured safe landing spots. There was little element of surprise and it was frightening, as it always was going into battle, but it was happening, and nothing could stop the flow of events now.