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

by Araya Evermore

  A shard of white light appeared before her in the sea of darkness. It pierced the Under Flow with its purity and drove back the clouds. The shard grew brighter forcing Issa to shield her eyes. Cirosa fell back against the wall, staring at the light.

  The shard hummed, lengthened, and separated into four identical spears of light. One remained in the centre and the other three began revolving slowly around it. Cirosa raised her hands and the Under Flow surged around the light, seeking to break it.

  ‘Reach for the light, Issa,’ Iyena’s strained voice spoke from far away.

  Inch by inch, Issa lifted her hand, fighting against the black magic that bound her. Her fingers touched the closest shard and she inhaled sharply. It was solid and smooth like well-polished wood, like a seer’s staff! She gripped it firmly and the light burst up her arm and over her body. She reached and grabbed Asaph’s leg, and the light spread from her hand to cover him too, and he stopped writhing. They both moved upwards, air rushing through every fibre of her being.

  The chamber, the Under Flow, Cirosa and Vornus vanished.

  White light bathed them, and she looked up into the face of Iyena. The woman’s face was upturned, utterly serene and her eyes were closed. The white shard she held was a seer’s staff, and her pale blue robes shimmered with effervescence—her whole body was ethereal and made of light.

  Dar, Suli and Naksu appeared behind Iyena holding the other shards of light that were their staves, their robes billowing in an unseen wind. They looked like angels; power, love and light holding them all in this space. Only Naksu wasn’t standing but sitting cross-legged in the centre of them all. Unlike the others her eyes were open.

  Asaph blinked and sat up, rubbing his chest. He stared at the seers in awe. ‘Is this the Ethereal Planes?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Naksu. ‘The Trinity are holding us here and I am directing them. We cannot hold us all for much longer, just long enough to break Baelthrom’s grasp on you.’

  The energy jolted and they fell.

  Issa hit the floor of the chamber hard, knocking the air from her lungs. Asaph rolled beside her and they both sat up gasping. Before them remained the giant pillar of light held in place in the chamber by the four white shards. The chamber was otherwise empty.

  ‘The dragon’s come!’ Naksu’s disembodied voice echoed around them, filled with joy and hope. ‘We’ll protect this space until we can hold it no longer. Do what you must, Raven Queen, take back your destiny, Dawn Bringer.’

  Something red and dragon-shaped shot past the window, and the roar of dragons tore through the castle; not one, but many. They were answered by the screams of many Dread Dragons.

  Asaph jumped to his feet and pulled Issa up—he seemed strong, glowing almost. She felt strength and power fill her, as if those moments in the Ethereal Planes had replenished her body and soul. Or perhaps it’s the power of the seers.

  ‘They can only have gone this way,’ Asaph growled and ran to the burnt and splintered door ahead of them, still holding her hand. ‘I need you to do whatever you can with the Flow, there’s no point hiding now. Fight and survive.’

  They ran up the steps, adrenaline making her giddy. At the top Asaph booted open the door. Beyond it was an enormous flat platform with a Dread Dragon perched on the far end and Cirosa and Vornus running towards it. They had emerged onto the very top of the castle, a place clearly made for dragons to land.

  Issa dared to glance down, and her knees went weak at the drop. They were very high up and a frigid wind whipped all around. Tall, snow-covered mountains ringed the skyline, hugged in places by white clouds. Snow gusted in flurries but when she looked to the sky she almost stumbled at the sight she never believed she would see.

  Dozens of dragons soared; reds, greens, greys and all the colours in between. Chasing them were equal numbers of Dread Dragons, diving and roaring. Fire and smoke filled the air.

  ‘Vornus!’

  Asaph’s howl captured her attention, and she whirled around. Asaph raised his sword and gripped it in two hands, the pommel flared blood-red. In the Flow, the entire sword was made of fire, and it was hungry.

  Cirosa paused mounting the Dread Dragon and Vornus turned.

  Issa grabbed her talisman and unsheathed Illendri. The Flow poured into her. She was fast, but somehow Cirosa was faster. From the priestess’s hands black tendrils spewed. They hit the ground and flowed along it like moving shadows straight towards Asaph. They surged over his feet and up his legs.

  Issa’s talisman magic reached him a second later, indigo magic surrounding the tentacles. The blackness was already half way up his legs, holding him solid. He slashed with his sword but could not cut the bounds.

  ‘Undo!’ Issa screamed. Her magic lashed around the black tendrils, fighting to pull them apart.

  Vornus unsheathed his sword and cautiously came towards them.

  ‘You betrayed us!’ Asaph growled, struggling to move, the veins bulging on his neck. ‘If it weren’t for you, Drax would never have fallen.’

  ‘Look at you, you snivelling runt! You’re just like your pathetic father! See above us, my little Prince, look. Do you think you can fight that?’

  Issa glanced up. Through a patch of thinning cloud there appeared not blue sky but black, the edges of the dark rift starkly visible. It was enormous. The Flow trembled in her uncertain grasp, her confidence faltering.

  ‘No, my forgotten Prince, you must embrace it, embrace the raw power.’ Vornus sniggered.

  Cirosa held up her other hand. Scores of black tentacles wound around Asaph, crushing him. He roared in pain, thrashing uselessly. Issa renewed her efforts but Cirosa’s grip on him was steel. She tried to reach for more power, but the black magic grew stronger, forcing her to focus solely on keeping it back.

  The energy shimmered around Asaph and she realised he was trying to change form—but Cirosa already knew this and was keeping him from doing so. Tendrils snaked around his sword arm, forcing him to lower it and he roared, enraged.

  Vornus laughed, raised his sword, and ran at Asaph. Issa screamed. Releasing her focus on Cirosa’s black magic, she turned the Flow on Vornus. An invisible fist knocked him to the ground as Asaph was lifted bodily into the air by the black tentacles.

  Issa tried to reach him, to drag him back with the Flow, but failed.

  Commanded by Cirosa, the Dread Dragon lifted its ugly head and snaked towards Asaph.

  A gushing wind suddenly howled over them, sending Issa to her knees and flinging Vornus backwards just as he was getting up. The air shimmered, the Flow jerked violently, and a blue dragon lifted its head over the parapet just yards away from Cirosa.

  Morhork’s giant claws clutched the wall, stone cracking between them as he heaved himself partially on to the platform. Cirosa jerked on her dragon’s reins, but her mount, focussed intently upon Asaph, responded too slowly.

  In one smooth movement, Morhork whipped his head towards the priestess, opened his jaws and, with a clap, snapped them shut on her body. He shook his muzzle savagely. Blood sprayed, slapping Issa in the face, then he tossed Cirosa high into the air. She hurtled skyward over the parapet, her body not in one piece but two.

  Issa bent over and retched.

  Asaph lurched forwards, Cirosa’s tentacles disappearing with each step.

  Vornus halted his advance and now fell back, eyes wide.

  Forcing herself into composure, Issa regained her stomach, her control on the Flow, and her balance.

  Morhork, despite his savagery, struggled to lift himself further onto the platform. He trembled all over, though she could see no mortal wound upon him. Perhaps magical flight has exhausted him, Issa thought.

  Cirosa’s Dread Dragon showed no such weaknesses. Seeing the demise of its master, it lifted its ugly horned head and roared. Issa staggered and covered her ears, Asaph and Vornus paused, then Vornus swirled his hands in the air.

  Swiftly, Issa released the Flow. The air shimmered and crackled over Vornus, stopping him castin
g.

  Morhork snapped at the black dragon, his jaws closing on thin air. The Dread Dragon slammed its horns into Morhork and the two dragons locked together, a mass of teeth and writhing muscle.

  Issa commanded the Flow. Blue fire snaked from her palms, flaring brightly into the black dragon, sizzling on scales and searing its sides.

  It barely noticed as it clawed at Morhork, its black talons dug deep into the softer scales beneath Morhork’s front legs and blood trickled from the weary dragon.

  Issa struggled to keep her eyes on the dragons and Asaph, and turn the Flow fast to her bidding.

  Asaph lurched into a run. Vornus turned and ran straight at the edge as if to jump off. Issa glimpsed the familiar shimmer of one trying to transform.

  ‘No you don’t!’ she hissed. Her magic lashed out and knocked him to the ground, giving Asaph the much-needed moments to reach him.

  A roar of pain came from Morhork, the Dread Dragon’s jaws had clamped onto the base of his neck.

  ‘Fire, Spear,’ Issa gasped, sweat rolling down her temples as she flicked her hands forward. White fire flew from them, spearing into the sides of the black dragon until its flesh began to smoke. The dragon snorted and loosened its grip.

  Morhork wrenched himself free but the motion cost him his balance and his claws slipped off the parapet. In one final motion he snaked his head up and clamped over the Dread Dragon’s front leg. The Dread Dragon howled and beat its wings, trying to lift away but the weight of an entire dragon on its limb was too great, and it tumbled over the edge, along with Morhork.

  Issa ran to the parapet.

  Asaph hurled himself at Vornus and tackled him to the ground.

  He landed several punches on the slighter man, surprised to find solid muscle as Vornus twisted and writhed. He slipped, and a leather boot caught him square in the face, causing stars to dance in front of his eyes.

  Asaph clung to the man, not letting him wriggle away whilst his senses returned. He got up on one knee, finding the man’s wrist in his left hand as they got to their feet. Asaph lifted his sword as Vornus attacked with his blade. The Sword of Binding flared as it struck metal and sliced straight through Vornus’s weapon. Metal screeched, and the hewn edge spun into the air and over the wall. Vornus growled and threw the useless hilt after it, then glared at the Sword of Binding.

  ‘Recognise it, do you?’ Asaph hissed, his hand becoming a vice crushing Vornus’s wrist.

  Vornus winced and flicked his free arm up. Something flashed in the air, Asaph saw the tiny dagger too late as he released Vornus’s arm and flinched away. The movement may have spared his life for the blade missed his neck and embedded itself into his shoulder. Asaph was too enraged to feel any pain.

  With a roar and lightning quick reflexes, Asaph lunged and sliced his sword up, tearing through Vornus’s clothing. The man stepped backwards, a surprised look forming on his colourless features as dark red blood splattered the white snow beneath him. He swayed and fell to one knee with a gasp. Asaph took a predatory step closer, raising his sword slowly.

  ‘My mother trusted you,’ Asaph said, emotion breaking his voice, unwanted tears blurring his vision.

  Vornus’s breath became laboured as he sank into an awkward sitting position, blood quickly spreading around him. Anger pinched his face and he snarled, blood flecking his lips, and then frowned in confusion, fear even. Something battled within the man; perhaps there was a tiny essence of who he had been before Baelthrom touched him. Whatever it was left swiftly, and utter hatred darkened his eyes.

  ‘Your mother was a whor—’

  Vornus never finished his sentence. Asaph pirouetted, his sword held at the perfect height as time itself slowed down. In the last moment before his blade reached Vornus’s throat, Asaph closed his eyes, he barely felt the blade connect, so sharp was the steel as it passed through flesh.

  When he stopped moving his gaze was drawn to the frozen beauty of the mountains beyond the castle, the snow-covered peaks, the way the white tendrils of clouds lazily caressed their steep sides.

  There was a thud behind him, followed by another. Asaph took a long, deep breath and let it go. The world shimmered as he did so, and the mountains, the air, perhaps even his ancestors, sighed with him.

  ‘It is done, Coronos, Mother, Father.’ He reached down, picked up a handful of snow and wiped the dark blood off his blade. Without looking directly at Vornus’s headless body spilling dark blood over the white snow—the man whose actions had destroyed the lives of millions, enslaved thousands, and caused the downfall of an entire continent—Asaph sheathed his sword in finality and walked towards Issa.

  Issa turned away from the parapet just before Morhork made the killing blow.

  She couldn’t watch the Dread Dragon’s throat ripped out, nor the deep wounds the beast had inflicted on Morhork’s chest.

  Asaph strode towards her and she stumbled towards him. There was a strange expression on his face, one of victory yet deep sadness; she had never seen him look so raw. Behind him lay Vornus’s beheaded body. Cirosa was dead, Vornus was dead, but she could not find any joy in that, just a weary relief.

  They embraced, saying nothing, finding comfort. When they pulled apart, there was blood on her hands.

  ‘You’re bleeding!’ she said, feeling him all over. He cried out when she touched his shoulder.

  ‘Now you mention it, I appear to have a blade in me,’ he said ruefully. ‘Great Feygriene, it doesn’t half smart now I’ve said that!’

  She saw the metal sticking out of his shoulder, a tiny blade embedded to the hilt.

  ‘Dear goddess, you’ll bleed to death. Look, it’s got to come out,’ she insisted when he shied away.

  She made him lie down on the snow and pooled healing magic in her left hand. With her right she gripped the hilt of the blade and closed her eyes. ‘Thank the goddess the blade is small, nothing more than a flicking knife, but still long enough to pierce the heart.’ It didn’t bear thinking about what might have happened.

  With a quick, smooth motion she pulled it free. Asaph groaned, his hot blood flowed fast, and she filled both hands with magic, at once stemming the flow and easing the pain. She used the knife to cut cloth from her hateful red robes and tied them around his arm and shoulder.

  ‘I’ve stopped the bleeding, but only if you don’t use your arm. Thankfully it’s not your sword arm.’

  ‘Morhork,’ said Asaph, forgetting his injury.

  She helped him up and they both went to the edge. Below was the smoking mess of the Dread Dragon, blood and gore splattered all over the walls and the snow. She followed the trail of huge bloody footprints and saw Morhork limping away up the narrow valley.

  ‘He’s wounded, we should go help him,’ said Issa.

  ‘No,’ Asaph said. He looked far away, and the golden dragon flashed in his eyes. ‘He’s sending me thoughts…I can’t read them easily in this form, but he’s done, needs rest. He cannot fight anymore.’

  A scream and a rush of wind made them whirl around. Barely getting away they ducked and rolled as a Dread Dragon swooped at them. Giant claws raked the stones of the parapet where they had just been standing, reminding them that the battle for Drax had only just begun.

  Following hot on its tail was a red dragon which may have been Rust. It roared as it passed and dropped something large. With a great clang and spray of snow, their dragon harness rolled to a stop in front of them and gleamed in the light.

  ‘I guess that’s a message,’ said Issa.

  Asaph laughed and ran to it. ‘We’re being invited to the battle.’

  ‘Great Goddess, look!’ Issa said, stopping abruptly and pointing east.

  Asaph gasped, and his eyes widened. ‘By Feygriene’s Fire!’

  There, in the far distance, marching along the white, snow-covered road towards the castle, was a legion of soldiers.

  34

  Dragon Legion

  Issa secured the final strap under Asaph’s chest and heaved
herself into the dragon seat.

  Asaph kept his eyes turned skyward, watching the skies for Dread Dragons. There were many, but his dragons were keeping them busy, never allowing them to turn their attentions onto the humans below. If they weren’t attacking them directly, they were taunting or chasing them

  ‘Is Marakon here?’ Issa asked excitedly. ‘Can you see Ehka?’

  ‘Even dragons cannot see that far,’ said Asaph. ‘But I have a sense that he is not. It was his plan to split off from the main fleet and come via our route. We must protect the landing point at all costs.’

  Two Dread Dragons dropped towards them.

  ‘Trouble comes.’ He bristled.

  Issa braced as Asaph’s muscles bunched then he leapt into the air in a spray of snow.

  Asaph beat his wings hard, seeking speed and lift as the already airborne black dragons swiftly approached.

  A grey dragon shot through the rapidly closing space between them, and one of the Dread Dragons instinctively went for it. The other remained on Asaph’s tail. He darted into the clouds, hoping Issa was hanging on tight. He certainly didn’t feel comfortable having her on his back when they were being attacked and wondered what kind of training dragons and dragon riders underwent for this.

  The grey dragon—a male he didn’t know—spoke to him mind to mind.

  ‘Use your magic, stronger together.’

  Asaph focused on the Flow. As a dragon, he didn’t need to enter it, he was always within it, all he needed to do was focus on the waves of energy flowing through and around everything. Issa was already there, a blaze of indigo light.

  ‘Ice,’ she commanded.

  He felt the air freeze around them and added his own power to the spell, strengthening it. The snow turned to shards of ice which dropped out of the sky onto the Dread Dragon, tearing through its wings. The dragon screamed, its flight slowing.

  Asaph arched down and emerged through the clouds above the approaching army. All factions marched as one unit, Feylint Halanoi, Elves, Dwarves, Lans Himayans and Navadin—their bears roars lifting to meet the roar of dragons. His heart suddenly lurched with pride and awe; there, at the front, marched soldiers wearing the old armour of the fabled Dragon Legion. Golden helmets sported royal blue crests, tabards gleamed white with the head of a golden dragon, a head that looks just like the dragon door.