‘It’s inside me, Asaph,’ she gasped. ‘Hameka’s dart, it had Sirin Derenax, not much, but enough. I can feel the Dark Rift, it calls to me, it’s within me, I’m falling to it.’
He stroked her hair, swallowing his fear, trying to be strong for her. What could he do, how could he help her? He felt ill. ‘No, not yet, we can fight it. There’s time, not much, but there is time.’
He held her as she drifted off to sleep, then curled up beside her under the watchful eyes of Ehka and Maggot. The little demon kept his distance, but Asaph was touched that he would not leave her side.
When Asaph awoke, Issa was looking at him. She smiled and lifted her good hand to touch his cheek. He kissed it. She seemed stronger.
‘You must come back with me,’ he said. ‘The Murk will make you weaker, not stronger. You need to come back to Maioria.’
A look of longing passed across her features and she frowned. ‘Not yet, I can’t make the journey, travelling between realms will tear me apart, but you must go. Gather the armies, take them to Maphrax. Forget all other battles, let all be lost if it must. I’ve seen the alignment, there’s so little time. We’ll face him on the planes before the Mountains of Maphrax. Many will die, but we must do this.’
The effort of speech wore her out and she closed her eyes.
Asaph pursed his lips, he didn’t want to do this alone. He didn’t want to leave her here. He watched her for a long time as she drifted back to sleep – at least the pain could not touch her there. He caught his breath as her veins pulsed black and ugly, and then paled back to faint green. He dared not think he might lose her.
Setting her hand down gently over her chest, he stood and turned to Maggot.
‘I leave her in your care, Maggot. Do not leave her side,’ he commanded the little demon.
‘Yes, Dragon Lord,’ said Maggot, struggling to meet his hard gaze.
Asaph softened his tone; this loyal demon had never left Issa from the start. ‘I know you will stay with her, Maggot, you have most unusual qualities.’ He walked towards the door and paused. ‘Be ready. Soon, you and all your kin will fight alongside us on Maioria’s soil. It will be for your own freedom too.’
He forced himself to walk out of the room and leave Issa, and headed down the dark stairs to Gedrock’s throne room. He’d get the king to rally the demons, then he’d return to Maioria and rally the dragons. Issa was right, they had little time.
‘You killed my mother and therefore my sister.’
Issa stood before King Gedrock seated on his throne. She was not recovered, and never would be, but enough days had passed where she could now stand. She placed her hands on her hips, feeling both weak from her wounds and yet strong from the black drink. Fearless—fearless enough to face the King of Demons.
The black drink gives me immortal strength—a strength I neither wish for, nor enjoy. I will endure and use it, until I can be rid of it.
Maggot clutched her calf and Ehka perched on her shoulder. Gedrock’s eyes glowered at her, but she did not care, she demanded answers.
‘Not directly,’ Gedrock growled. ‘Things were different between demons and humans then. To be enslaved by a human is the greatest insult to a demon. All humans who conjure demons and ensnare them deserve to be killed by that which they enslave. Your mother, and her mother before her whose ring you wear, knew the risks and deserved all that unfolded.’
‘You betrayed them,’ Issa growled.
Gedrock stood to his full, towering height and raised his wings menacingly. ‘Demons are beholden to none, especially not humans. Deceit is survival, honour is worthless to us, a weakling’s attribute,’ he scoffed.
Issa rolled back her shoulders and looked at the green crystal. She was letting her pain and sorrow for her sister and mother cloud her judgement. Demons are what demons are. They acted in accordance to their nature. She could not blame them, and she could not fight them for being what they were—it was a double-edged sword, to trust a demon. It was Lona who truly killed my sister in the end. I need these beings as allies, no matter how distasteful they might be.
She turned away, unsatisfied, with her need for revenge unfulfilled. Her sorrow at the way the world was, at how things had unfolded, unsalvageable.
Gedrock relaxed and reseated himself. She could feel him watching her.
‘The Dark Rift grows within you,’ he said. ‘An ocean of rage, never seen before in a human.’
Truth spoken by a demon! Issa shut her eyes. The rage swirled within her and it would boil up if she didn’t control it. She could let it consume her, the hatred and desire for revenge against all that had befallen her, against those who had done this to her. The power of the Dark Rift was ever there, exhausting, all-consuming, but it was Maggot’s pressing hands that calmed her.
‘I only have to bear it for a little while,’ she whispered. ‘The end is coming.’ She didn’t know if she meant her end or the end of her enemies.
Gedrock nodded. ‘We demons are ready. When Velistor opens the portals, then can we come. Do not waste time, Raven Queen, we grow restless. If the Dark Rift consumes you fully before then, I’ll kill you myself.’
Issa nodded, strangely grateful for his merciful words. ‘You have become a demon with mercy, King Gedrock. Please see to it that you make it swift and painless.’
Gedrock held her gaze then gave a slight nod of his head.
Issa stood before the Star Portal.
She didn’t think she would find it from within the Murk, not in her condition, but it came to her as before. Ehka perched on her shoulder and Maggot hovered beside her as she stood before the sacred mound. It was dark but not a fearsome dark, rather one of permanent twilight, the peace and stillness found at the closing of the day.
Tiny white and blue flowers dotted the grass over the mound, hinting at spring, and thick, billowing mist marked the boundaries through which she could not see. This place was a small patch of Maioria moved into the higher realms to protect it. And all that might be left of the planet once this battle is over…She pushed the thought away, she would not think of defeat here in this sacred place.
I should just walk in and get this over with. Asaph’s waiting for me. Marakon and the Knights of the Raven, the Navadin, the wizards, and what remains of the seers—they’re all waiting for me on the borders of Maphrax, waiting for the final battle. And I’m waiting for the dark moon to rise.
But for all the urgency, Issa stood gazing at the sacred mound, its pitch-black entrance framed by ancient monoliths and the standing stones surrounding it as silent guards.
What if she could no longer enter? A fear like no other paused her first step, caught the breath in her throat, ate at her soul. The black drink coursed through her veins; she had become that which she hated most. What if Zanufey had abandoned her? She stayed poised, staring at her deepest fears and the guardian stones turning into her accusers.
Ehka croaked, making her jump, and flew off her shoulder straight into the entrance. The spell broke, her fear shattered, she let out the breath she’d been holding and laughed. Maggot looked up at her questioningly. Issa shook her head, shrugged, and followed Ehka.
Intense cold seeped into her bones and then a warm wind greeted her. She breathed deeply of the dusty desert air before opening her eyes, allowing the relief to wash over her. She could enter; she was not barred.
The night sky and blue sand stretched out before her, and ahead stood the dark, sparkling trilithon. She walked slowly towards it, her Dread Dragon boots sinking into the sand. A feeling stole over her that this was the last time she would ever come here. She should be sad, but she wasn’t. If I fall or rise, at least there will be change, release, anything but this unending war. She was ready to go into the Dark Rift herself, to make the ultimate sacrifice in the attempt to save Maioria, she realised that now. I can make peace with that, and I must do it before the Dark Rift within consumes me.
The air between the stones shimmered, and out stepped a tall, majestic w
oman robed in the stars. Issa’s eyes lingered on the huge black hole now engulfing the goddess’s torso. There was no surprise, just the monumentality of the task before her.
Issa bowed her head, overwhelmed. ‘I feared that I could not enter and you would not come.’
‘Fear does many things to a being, Maion’artheria.’ Zanufey’s soft voice was filled with wisdom and compassion.
Issa nodded, then dared to speak the truth, the facts. ‘The darkness is within me now, I feel it growing. I can see from within the Dark Rift. It’s become a part of me… I’ll not be able to withstand it for long.’
Zanufey spoke softly, ‘How can you heal that which you don’t understand? How can you remedy a malady you have never felt?’
Enlightenment touched Issa’s mind and for the briefest moment she felt the pure light of the One Source shining down upon her, so awe-inspiring and encompassing she caught her breath, and tears filled her eyes.
Issa whispered. ‘On the edge of Oblivion I stand. I see the light disappearing far above me and the end of all lights. Within the rift, there is no love, there is only disharmony, only darkness. All things light and whole, it shatters and consumes.’
‘Then you must be the light unto the darkness, Maion’artheria,’ said Zanufey. ‘Be the last light in a falling world.’
Unstoppable tears blurred Issa’s vision as they fell. Zanufey cupped her cheek, her cool hand stilling the torrent of emotions that welled within. She wanted to cry for all the lost, all the darkness, and all the evil growing within her – it was a torrent only Zanufey could soothe.
‘I could try to save Ayeth,’ Issa whispered. ‘Now I can reach him in the rift, now I can hear Baelthrom inside my head. Maybe I can reach Ayeth like Freydel did. The light has left Baelthrom, but it is still within Ayeth.
‘There can be no hope of saving one so far gone,’ said Zanufey. ‘The mercy is in ending it. It is hardest for those still connected to the light to watch others disconnect and fall into darkness.’
‘Is there no hope for the damned?’ Issa whispered.
‘Always there is hope. Why else did Ayeth let himself fall trying to save Lona? If enough beings return to the light with memories of how they were before they fell, the fallen can be reborn anew. In that way, nothing is ever lost. Nothing is ever outside of the One Light.’
Issa sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘But we must not lose ourselves, Maioria and all her people…I have to try.’
‘I am with you, Maion’artheria, always.’
38
Gates of Oblivion
‘Are you all right?’ asked Asaph.
Issa stared up at him, noting the frown creasing his brow.
‘You fell asleep again and were moaning and tugging your clothes,’ he said.
The darkness passed, her clenched guts relaxed, and air filled her lungs, bringing her back to life. Baelthrom’s image faded but the blackness within her did not.
She didn’t say anything, she didn’t want to speak aloud about the poison within her, and instead embraced him. He rubbed her arms and she pressed her face against his hard chest, finding solace in the strong beat of his heart.
The din of the officers’ tent descended upon her as the darkness passed. She’d fallen asleep on the chair but thankfully no one other than Asaph had noticed. She often fell asleep suddenly, without warning, even in the saddle, and the Dark Rift would open and swallow her up. She’d returned to Asaph from the Murk two days ago and re-joined the legions marching to Maphrax.
‘You don’t have to be here with the soldiers,’ Asaph said softly. ‘You’ve done enough, and you are not… well. The war will continue with or without you.’
She glanced at the view partially revealed through the tent flaps. Red sand and rock, no grass or trees or rivers to be seen for hundreds of miles, and in the distance, the three black peaks of Maphrax.
Military commanders clustered around a table full of maps and diagrams, voicing their thoughts and concerns, some almost shouting to be heard. King Navarr was taking the lead, dressed in full armour apart from a helmet, he leant on the table. Though most bent to his authority, everyone was tired, and tempers were frayed, the march here had been long and arduous. Dread Dragons harried them the entire journey, murdering scores of soldiers then flying off before they could be taken down. Such attacks came at random, especially in the night, and it wore them down.
Watching the officers quietly from beyond, stood Naksu, Haelgon and Luren. Even Marakon had stepped back from the heated table, the look on his face mirroring her own feelings; they could plan all they wanted but war had a mind of its own.
When it came to it, a strategy was useful, but this battle they were about to fight would not follow any rules, they could not plan it all. Little they did now, in this flimsy tent before the gates of the enemy, could possibly change what was going to happen in the next few days. War was chaos, and this would be chaos defined.
Her eyes were drawn to the black mass in the sky, partially visible through the gap in the tent. She could feel its draw on her physical body now, not just her mind and soul. They could all feel it drawing them in. If she stared for too long she felt herself lifting towards it. She shut her eyes and focused on another power growing, another power calling to her. She focused on the rising dark moon. She was sure it helped slow the immortal changes she was going through, helped slow the death of her physical body.
In a day or two, the dark moon would rise. Then was her chance, then was her strength. It was the only thing that could give her the power she needed to face Baelthrom.
‘Come, let’s get away from here,’ said Asaph, interrupting her thoughts.
He took hold of her hand and led her outside. Duskar snorted, he was tethered beside the tent with a few other horses. She stroked his nose. In the valley below, partially obscured by a line of jutting rocks, she saw the giant rumps of two dragons, a red and a green, sleeping. Even the dragons will not be enough, she thought and tried not to imagine their race being utterly destroyed.
With their eyes to the skies, Asaph and Issa walked hand in hand along the dusty path. Perhaps this had been a main road once, thought Issa, imagining the land that had been Tusarza covered with green grass and meadow flowers. Was that a dried river bed down there? Could it flow again? She sighed.
They came to a rocky alcove that faced east, away from Maphrax and out of sight of the black scar in the sky. Asaph sat on a flat rock and she perched next to him, neither of them speaking. They watched the dark red clouds billow above.
After a time, she turned to Asaph and kissed him. He cupped her face when she drew away and pulled her close. They kissed again, and their passion ignited. Fiercely, wildly, they pulled off each other’s clothes, both fearful it would be their last. Issa let the magic take her, giving herself fully into it as Asaph’s yellow and orange fire consumed her.
She gasped, feeling once more the purity of wholeness when they combined. For one beautiful moment the black drink within her was gone, as if he had the power to purify her. She wanted her innocence back, and Asaph could give it to her.
She trembled as he trembled beneath her, for now she was free. She clung to the feeling. ‘Never let me go,’ she gasped.
‘I cannot even if I try,’ he whispered.
Issa gripped Duskar’s mane.
They cantered up the side of the ravine to the cliff above. Illendri was warm in its scabbard at her side; the orb sensed its sisters in the distance and wanted to return to them.
The air was heavy and charged, and her head had pounded with a dull ache ever since they’d stepped into the cursed land. Something to do with the red thunder clouds pressing down on them, something to do with the tear in the sky she and everyone else tried every minute of every hour not to look at.
For now, she looked down, down into a wide ravine where their armies marched. The boots of the soldiers pounded rhythmically, their pennants trailing like ribbons, their freshly polished armour glinting.
&
nbsp; At the front rode the Knights of the Raven headed by Marakon. As if sensing her eyes upon him, the half-elf commander looked up from his bay mount. He would not take a white mount, not since his previous one had ascended. Their eyes met, and he saluted her. She smiled and saluted back, the gesture feeling awkward.
The Knights of the Raven’s ranks had grown to reach nearly a thousand. They were the best of the Feylint Halanoi, well-seasoned though not jaded or injured, and ready to fight Maioria’s last battle and pay with their lives. Pride swelled within as she appreciated their pristine tabards, squared shoulders and determined expressions.
Hundreds of Navadin followed the Knights, led by a proud woman holding her spear high. Even from here Issa could hear the bears’ growls, their massive bulks lumbering behind the horses. She’d never have thought she’d see the beasts of the forest fighting alongside humans.
Following the bear riders marched Draxians, their blue tufted helmets vivid against the red and grey desert. They were far fewer in number, but their ranks grew every day as more Draxian exiles joined them.
Behind them, in far greater numbers, marched the Feylint Halanoi, their tabards a blaze of red and gold, and then she stared at another sight she never thought she’d see. A thousand-strong Saurians walked without armour, holding their brightly feathered spears and turning their quick, furtive faces this way and that, ready to leap upon the enemy at any moment. They did not march, and she sensed such orderly undertakings did not come naturally to the lizard folk, and neither did being surrounded by so many humans. She suspected, worried even, that what she gazed upon was the entirety of the Saurian race. An entire race ready to die for their beloved Maioria.
Her eyes travelled to the elves who followed them, dressed in their ornate golden helmets and armour. ‘Save our people,’ the pain stabbed deep as she remembered Velonorian’s final words. She took a deep breath. I will do all that I can, brave Velonorian.
War of the Raven Queen: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 6 Page 42