‘We made our choices and here we stand, in the light eternal. Those beings from Aralansia have returned to the light they so long worked for, finally freed of their tireless commission to help other planets and beings afflicted by the Dark Rift.
‘Those who did not choose the light could no longer remain on Maioria’s ascending planes. They have gone into the rift and other such places where they can live out their choices and the consequences of those choices. In the worlds of light, free will is always honoured.’
‘Zanufey is gone?’ Issa’s voice sounded weak compared to the resonance of the goddess’s. She feared to ask the question and was deeply saddened that Aralansia could not be saved, in the end.
Love and compassion emanated from Woetala. ‘When the last of Aralansia was destroyed, its guardian Zanufey could no longer hold her presence here. She has returned to the One Light, but a part of her lives within you, for you and she are one. In time, you will relearn how to connect with the higher part of you, the part of you that is Zanufey. Indeed, you and I and all of Maioria are one. We are all one in the higher realms—this you have seen.’
Issa nodded, tears filling her eyes as she remembered the wondrous light and fields of creation in which there was no this or that, just pure light, sound and intention.
‘So, what do we do now?’ Asaph shrugged.
Issa couldn’t help herself and laughed. Woetala and Doon smiled.
‘There is a new, wondrous world to explore, to protect, and to nourish,’ Woetala said. ‘You are reconnecting to what you really are – pure spirit, love and joy as it was in the old times. You, and all the beings of Maioria, are awakening to a new way of being, the old way of being that has so long been forgotten, so long been lost to you.
‘No longer blocked by the Dark Rift, the pure light of the One can reach Maioria and her beings again, and so you will find many things have changed for the better. Age happens much more slowly, and some will not age at all. A few may even grow younger.
‘There will be seasons, but they will not be so extreme, and neither will it be cold at the poles or sweltering in the arid deserts. Maioria has become a far gentler place and all lands share an agreeable climate.
‘As it was in the past, so shall it be again, for it is the nature of things to return to that which they once were. You and Asaph in particular are relearning to be that which you are destined to be—Guardians. For that is what this is all about.’
‘But how can we be Guardians? The magic is gone, I cannot feel it,’ said Issa, feeling ashamed. ‘I don’t even have a talisman or an orb.’ She hadn’t tried properly, she was too afraid to, but despite the magic and life-force in everything, she could feel the Flow just wasn’t there anymore.
Woetala nodded. ‘Do not worry for the things that have passed, they are as toys – out-grown, out-lived. That which you call the Flow was only a fragment of the pure magic that now flows through all Maioria. You shall be guided but not told. Search for this magic with others. Together, learn its ways, and you will do incredible things.’
Woetala’s smiled deepened. ‘Now listen, another awakens…’
Woetala and Doon began to fade and the golden tunnel of light retreated back into the forest revealing a pathway. Along the pathway flew a large black bird.
‘Ehka?’ Issa whispered. She hadn’t dared hope he might have survived the destruction of Maphrax.
Ehka cawed and landed on her shoulder. She pressed her cheek into him closing her eyes. ‘I feared for you, so much. I could not bring myself to think you were dead.’ He ruffled her hair with his beak.
‘Look Issa, Sheyengetha!’ said Asaph.
Now the light was gone she saw the soft glow of a blue trunk at the far end of the path. She stared at its beautiful canopy of rich green leaves standing taller than all the trees around it. Issa held her breath as the trunk glowed brighter, then a figure emerged out of it. Her hand went to her mouth as she stared at the tall man walking gracefully towards them. Ehka squawked and flew to him. The man laughed and held his arm up for the bird to land on.
‘Averen!’ Issa cried out. Tears fell down her cheeks and she ran to the elf.
He smiled and embraced her with his free arm. Asaph embraced them both in a bear hug and they all laughed.
‘Easy now, I’m a little weak,’ said the elf.
She looked up at him. His hair, once copper, gleamed white as did his eyes. He held her gaze and direct cognition passed between them, surprising them both. She saw the light reaching him and setting him free, but his soul and the soul of Sheyengetha had become melded in some way—a part of Sheyengetha lived within him, and a part of him lived within Sheyengetha.
‘So it is true,’ whispered Averen, his eyes wide. ‘Telepathy returns to us, even between human and elf.’
Issa didn’t know what to say, the elf was right. Everything the Wykiry had said to her she had received in her mind already, and with Asaph too. It had come so naturally she hadn’t realised it had been different before, communication relying only on words. The Wykiry didn’t need to speak, but they had wanted to use their voices for the first time in so long.
‘It’s really true,’ said Asaph, his eyes widening. ‘It’s the same as when I speak with my dragon mind, I can see what you are saying.’
Issa looked at Averen. ‘And I can see that you’re no longer a High Wizard. You are beyond even a Master.’ Even the terms sounded silly and pretentious now. ‘You have knowledge of Tree Lore; I can feel it within you. This is something you must teach us.’
‘That is right. I feel there are few things we’ll be able to hide from each other, and perhaps that is a good thing. Sheyengetha and I have returned to bring the trees back to Maioria. That is my new purpose. New lands need new trees,’ he laughed. ‘And we must begin right away. Ah look, there they are, my brothers and sisters have returned to the land. They will bring life to new oceans.’ He walked towards the Wykiry and made a graceful, sweeping bow.
The Wykiry spread their arms wide. ‘Elf friend,’ said the male, and in Issa’s heart she felt the Wykiry’s joy. ‘There’s one last thing we forgot to mention: to start anew, all menfolk have travelled to Drax to await the return of the Dawn Bringer and Raven Queen. The seers amongst them have foreseen it.’
Asaph laughed nervously.
‘Then we should go there right away,’ said Averen smoothing his pale green robes, and Issa realised his clothing was woven entirely of leaves. The elf clapped his hands together and smiled, bursting with energy and keen to get going.
42
Reborn
Asaph angled his wings and descended through the thick white clouds.
Issa watched the plane of green grass loom up to meet them. The golden dragon landed and set her and Averen gently down before resuming his human form.
She looked to the ruins of Draxa some distance ahead. The sky was only just brightening with the oncoming dawn, but she could make out some of the still-standing turrets in the low light.
‘Knowing my home is still here holds some comfort,’ Asaph said. He looked behind him at the enormous mountain range. ‘There are the Grey Lords—but all the snow has melted.’
Issa looked back. Indeed, there wasn’t even any ice or snow in the upper crevices.
‘Spring fast approaches,’ said Averen, smiling. ‘I can feel the seeds laying expectant in the earth, the trees are eager to grow.’
‘How long have we been sleeping?’ asked Issa, shaking her head.
‘It’s been a long, long winter,’ said Averen. ‘Let’s get to Draxa!’ He started walking briskly along the path.
Issa and Asaph grinned at each other, then hurried after him. What would they find? Issa wondered as she hurried to keep pace with Averen’s long stride. Our friends will be there, she hoped. Rhul’ynth, Naksu and Edarna. And some friends would not. She tried to think about only those she would see.
The dawn light grew, and with it the sounds of voices and human activity. They reached the top of a
hill and paused to stare open-mouthed at the hive of activity going on below.
Where once a great battle had been fought, now was alive with reconstruction. Temporary wooden scaffolds surrounded and filled the city of Draxa, and people busily worked, even before dawn, to rebuild the fallen city. Pennants streamed in the breeze, the bright colours that had adorned the army now adorned the castle walls. Hammers rang on anvils, nails thumped into wood, people called for assistance and announced new supplies. Even a couple of dragons worked, moving giant stones, carrying great logs and setting them down wherever they were needed. Everybody was busy doing something.
Issa looked at Asaph and his expression matched her own. A neigh rang out from somewhere and people suddenly ran and fell out of the way of a black horse charging. The horse hurtled through the crowd dragging along a man only just managing to retain his desperate grip on to the rope around its neck.
‘Duskar!’ Issa squealed and ran to stop the horse. She followed it with ‘Marakon!’ when she realised it was the half-elf attached to the end of the rope.
‘Well met, Raven Queen,’ Marakon gasped and struggled to his feet. He bent over to catch his breath then straightened to catch her rough embrace.
‘And Jarlain and Bokaard…and Eiretonne?’ she asked.
‘Don’t worry, they’re all here. We’re all here,’ he nodded then shook his head. ‘Although, I’m seriously thinking about retiring now, that battle was…’
The sun burst over the horizon casting them all in golden light. Workers paused and closed their eyes, smiling as the much-needed warmth spread over the thawing landscape.
‘The Dawn Bringer comes!’ shouted someone, spotting them.
‘The Raven Queen returns!’ shouted another, and people turned to point at them.
If she’d thought the city was busy now, it was soon thronging with people, elves, dwarves, Karalanths, Draxians and dragons. The time for talking vanished as friends and onlookers surrounded them. Rhul’ynth gripped her shoulder, then Eiretonne hugged her. Naksu was suddenly before her, smiling, with Haelgon’s arm over her shoulders, then Bokaard was slapping her on the back. Everyone embraced, everyone cried. Everyone was here.
Asaph was beset upon by five men she had only spoken to a handful of times. ‘My Loyal Men,’ she heard him say and grin from ear to ear.
Leaper was first—she recognised his tied back, long fair hair, but Asaph’s Loyal Men were swiftly followed by hundreds of Draxians.
‘Our King returns!’ they shouted. ‘The Dawn Bringer comes.’ They cheered and laughed and many cried. Tears soon ran down Asaph’s face too.
‘We’ve been busy reconstructing the place,’ Eiretonne winked at Issa when the crowd settled.
‘I can see,’ she said, still in awe of the activity going on here.
‘Come and look,’ said Marakon.
The crowd parted and they walked towards Draxa. Lining the road leading to the old, destroyed front gate were scores of new, unfinished statues, and dwarven stonemasons stood on ladders chiselling away at the smooth lumps of white-grey stone. Some of the statues already had faces and, now she was closer, she could see a couple of them were finished.
Marakon followed her gaze. ‘It was decided that those who fought for Drax, and for all Maioria, should not be forgotten. They have become known as the Guardians of Draxa.’
The half-elf commander turned to Asaph and spoke hurriedly. ‘We hope you don’t mind us taking the initiative. However, it was an overwhelming, unanimous decision of the people, of the Draxian people. We knew you would return to us; we just didn’t know when. We hoped it would be complete to welcome you…’
‘It’s perfect,’ said Asaph, his eyes alight, as he walked towards the statues. ‘This is not my city, nor my kingdom, it is ours and it belongs to everyone.’
Issa followed him. The statues were incredible with the tiniest detail, flick of hair, lift of robe in the wind, attended to and captured in stone. The dwarf working on the nearest one paused his polishing and pulled away the rest of the sheet to let them marvel.
‘Beautiful,’ said Issa.
A deep smile of pride spread across the dwarf’s face.
Issa looked harder at the statue, at the bow and notched arrow held at his side, at his long hair and almond eyes looking far into the distance. Deep pain struck her heart making her gasp.
‘Velonorian.’ Tears blurred her vision. He looked so perfect, his eyes full of life and eagerness, as he had been in life.
If only you could see the new world now, my beautiful guardian. She reached up and stroked his foot, the only part she could reach from the ground. Your people are free, Woetala has awoken. I did what you asked, what I promised.
‘We thought he should be first; the first Guardian, my Queen. Don’t you like it?’ asked the dwarf stonemason, his voice uncertain after her reaction.
‘No, I mean, yes, it’s perfect. I just wish he were here,’ she whispered.
The dwarf’s eyes sparkled. ‘Aye, many have gone to the light… We haven’t started on them yet, but the Trinity will be placed in the new gardens as a wondrous fountain such as you have never seen.’
‘Yes, that would be a most fitting memorial,’ said Issa, wiping back the tears. Then she shook her head. ‘No, let it not be a memorial, but a celebration of life, of freedom. For that is what they lived and died for, so we could be free.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Asaph softly.
‘As you wish, my Queen. No stone is beyond the skill of a dwarven stonemason,’ the dwarf winked.
Issa looked at the statue opposite Velonorian on the other side of the road and the world stopped turning.
The dwarf, seeing her shock, coughed nervously. ‘Well, the other statue…it’s a little unconventional, and maybe you and King Asaph, Dragon Lord Dawn Bringer would like to rearrange them, a-hem. Their placements are not set in stone, so to speak…’
The dwarf’s voice faded away as she stepped towards the other statue. Uncontrollable emotions rolled through her. This one was small, so small, it was the only completely finished one. There, at the start of the road to Drax, standing defiantly on his short stubby legs, his wings spread wide, unruly fang protruding over his lip, was Maggot. His stone image was perfect in every way as if someone had frozen him in time. There was even Jabber in his out-stretched hands as he fearlessly took on anyone who dared to invade the city of Drax. There was nothing she could think or say—she could only cry.
Thiashar appeared and buzzed softly around him. The green fairy light nestled at his feet and did not move.
Issa eventually became aware of Asaph’s arms around her, and the voice who had brought her back from her sorrow.
‘Issa,’ the voice said softly again, weak but recognisable.
She lifted her face from Asaph’s chest and he released her, his face a mask of pain too. Beside him, Marakon suffered his own grief as Jarlain wrapped her arms about him, tears on her cheeks, but it was none of them who had spoken.
‘Freydel?’ Issa wiped her eyes.
Her friends stepped aside. There, leaning on a simple wooden staff, stood Freydel. He had a stoop and grey covered his beard and hair, but his eyes were alive and they were filled with peace. He walked towards her, aided heavily by his staff, everything passing between in the gaze that they held. She embraced her old tutor. He had returned to them.
‘I saw you broken and alone,’ she whispered. ‘Just as I have been broken and alone. Ayeth came for me, Freydel. Through me he reached Baelthrom.’
‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘In the last moments, he reached for me also. He gifted me a vision to ease my soul before he said goodbye.’
‘Everything you did was true,’ Issa nodded. ‘The magic is not gone, Freydel. It has been reborn anew. Together we will learn its ways.’
‘Found him naked and gibbering in a cave, I did,’ said a familiar voice.
Edarna stepped from behind Freydel. Issa laughed and hugged the beaming witch.
‘
Praise the goddess you did,’ said Issa.
A great wind gusted around them and a trembling in her stomach made her look up. On wings the colour of blue ice, flew Morhork, and she did a double take at the dragon harness on his back. There was dragon fear, but not the gut-wrenching, heart-stopping fear of old. At least her legs did not give way.
Issa stared at the dragon as it landed. Morhork’s paw was no longer black, and his wings were clearly not magic holograms, but living flesh and blood.
‘All things have been healed,’ said Issa, coming to a stop before him.
Morhork blinked his golden eyes and dipped his head reverently. ‘By the grace of Feygriene, I have earned back my wings.’
There was something different about him, a gentleness that hadn’t been there before, and could that even be compassion in his eyes? Issa could but wonder as the dragon lay down and not one, but three beings stepped out of the dragon harness, two Saurians and an old man.
Issa gasped. ‘Father!’ She ran to help the blindfolded man as Ekem and Ata assisted him down the dragon’s leg.
‘My Issalena,’ the old man laughed, stretching out his hands to find her.
She grabbed hold of them and kissed them. In her father’s arms, all the sadness of the world vanished. For a long time, they held each other, saying nothing, feeling everything.
‘Oh, Father,’ Issa said, trying to hold back the tears that would not stop falling. ‘Your daughter, my sister is gone. I tried to save, I tried to reach her, but I could not hold on to her. She was the third Raven Queen. Father, I did not know.’
‘Shhh,’ Thanon said, stroking her hair and rocking her as if she were a child. ‘I saw them both, they came to me to say goodbye. Eritara told me to tell you not to cry, for where they have gone there is nothing but joy and light.’
War of the Raven Queen: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 6 Page 48