by A. Evermore
‘A raven…’ Fraya gasped. Issa wondered at the faint smile upon her mother’s face.
‘I know nothing of the Immortals, nor this Bael… Bael… person,’ Issa couldn’t bring herself to say the name.
‘Baelthrom,’ Fraya hissed the name for her. ‘Only the old upon the Isles of Kammy will know of them, for long ago, when we were young, the Seers and Priestess’s came to our shores warning all about the rise of this ancient threat and with their magic showed us him and his beasts. We were terrified and in our naivety we forbade each other to speak of him, lest he hear us and darken our shores. Our children will have heard little of the darkness that eats the East.
‘But they came anyway. They came with Dromoorai and their black Dread Dragons and Death Hounds and all the horrors I hoped never to see. They burned the house, the orchard…; said they had razed the whole island looking for any child of a Seer. Thank the Goddess you were not here. They torched the house with me inside and left me to burn in my bed but here I crawled through the flames and cinders to wait for you. You, my daughter, are the one they wanted, and so glad am I that you are here now. But you must not stay, it is no longer safe.’
Issa shook her head, ‘I don’t understand, none of this makes any sense. What are Drom-oor-ai and Dread Dragons? What do you mean?’ Her mother had surely gone mad and was talking gibberish.
‘I had tried to keep all this from you, to keep you safe from the horrors of the world, because I love you and I knew the path you would one day tread will be the hardest of all.’ She sobbed, tears black with soot trickled down her face.
‘I had so many dreams about you before you came to me… and all the prophecies the Seers had taught me... When I had you in my arms I did not want them to be true, but I did as they in their wisdom told me to. I hid you from the world but I always knew that one day they would come. My beautiful child has survived.’
She tried to smile up at Issa, her blue eyes shining despite the blood shots, but the smile became a wince as her skin cracked and a trickle of bright red blood oozed down blackened skin. She reached up a shaking hand to touch her daughter. Issa lowered a wet cheek to rest lightly upon her mother’s hand.
‘I know it will be hard for you to understand after so long in silence. But a great evil is destroying our beloved Maioria. I have been your loving Guardian until the time came for you to help lead us through the darkness. The Dark Lord knows there is a threat to his might and will do all he can to stamp it out. Take a boat, get to Bigger Kammy, get to the Main Land if you can…’
Her hand lost some of its strength.
‘Ma, please don’t leave me alone here,’ Issa pleaded, reaching to hold her hand gently as if doing so would stop her slipping away.
‘You have untapped powers within you, beyond the healing of horses. The Seers will help you; find the Seers upon the Isles of Myrn. Follow your heart,’ she fell silent. Issa felt her pulse, it was weak against her fingers; fluttering fast and then so slow it was almost non-existent. The lantern spluttered and flickered noisily upon the last remnants of oil, as if mirroring her mother’s grasp on life, and then dimmed almost to darkness.
‘Oh I see her now,’ her mother said suddenly. Her eyes shone with a light of their own in the darkness as she looked upon something Issa could not see. ‘Oh she is beautiful. She stands beside you, you look alike.’ Issa looked around her but could see nothing. ‘Yes,’ her mother said softly, as if in a conversation that Issa could not hear, ‘lead me to the light.’
As Issa peered into the dark a faint light formed, shimmering all colours of a rainbow as it twirled above her mother’s chest. There was a pulse of light and then the rainbow was gone. A long slow sigh came from her mother, her chest sinking low into the bed. The charred hand Issa held clenched once, squeezing her daughter’s hand one last time, and then was still.
Issa sat there in the darkness for a long while, as unmoving as the body of her mother. There was no tears, there weren’t even any thoughts, only a terrible empty stillness, as if a great black void of nothingness now filled the place where the person called Issa had existed and it seemed two people had died, not one.
Many hours later, her mother’s hand still held in her own had long ago grown stiff and cold, she whispered in the dark as an eternal age-old battle began to take place in her mind; an exhausting fight between denial of death and acceptance of it.
‘What is the point of death anyway?’ her quiet voice echoed in the empty cavern, holding only a hint of the war raging within her. ‘It serves no useful purpose, it should not be. Living forever makes more sense,’ she said loudly, ‘who is it that dares to take Ma away?’ she demanded of the person her mother had seen but there came no answer. Her voice echoed briefly in the cave and then fell silent. Her questions would not be answered. They, like all life, were futile.
Hot, grief-filled, rage welled up within her like a volcano suddenly awakening. It took her by surprise, its suddenness and potency. Anger like molten lava bursting upwards from its prison deep within the earth to spew forth its rage upon the world. She dropped her mother’s cold hand and clenched her own hair, rocking backwards and forwards upon the bed. A crying howl pushed through her body so forcefully that it came out silent at first, and then became a ragged scream that tore at her throat. Again she howled, a sound like screeching thunder echoing loudly. Again and again the furious grief came out shaking her whole body, her hands clawed at the air as if she could crawl up and away from her own being.
She wanted to destroy everything until nothing remained of the world, not even herself. Her hands had become hot and red but she barely noticed it. Then sparks of red light, like static energy, flickered around her fingers turning into thin blue shards darting from their tips to flare against the cavern walls. She cried out and more sparks flared as if they came from the hot lava of grief and anger within her. Now they exploded against the walls with such force that cracks began to appear, snaking up and down.
Rocks started to fall as the cave cracked but Issa cared nothing for herself. The flying sparks became dangerous shards of lightening incinerating everything they touched. The food baskets burst into red and blue flames that flared once and then went out leaving only smoking cinders. More sparks hit the stools and beds and they burst into fire.
The energy within her was fuelled by grief that had no end and she let it out with a great cry. A ball of blue flames erupted from her hands with such force it exploded into the cave sending her flying backwards. Her back hit the door and it splintered as she catapulted out of the crumbling, smoking, cavern. Consciousness wavered into darkness.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dromoorai
Issa bolted upright with a gasp. Life had suddenly burst into her spent body. Warm sunlight cast her in bright white-yellow light. For a brief moment she thought she was in her own bed and the sunlight was spilling through the window. She blinked a few times and the burnt-out hole in a rock face took shape before her. Her bedroom had gone and dread settled in her belly.
‘Ma,’ she breathed. There was nothing left of the cavern except a black hole in a sheer rock, everything had been incinerated just like her home. She closed her eyes and for a moment tried to believe she was in her own room and that everything was normal like just a day or two ago; that Fraya was her mother and she must soon go to work at the smithy. Issa smiled but slowly a keen, and then desperate, need for water picked through her illusion and her smile faded. She opened her eyes as the illusion shattered. Without the consuming rage that had spent her, she was an empty shell of a person.
There was a small stream a little further down the hill that made a faint tinkling noise, luring her to it. She stood up on trembling legs and her eyes fell upon the money pouch lying on the grass. All that is left of my life, she thought, snatching it up and stuffing it back into her pocket before the tears could come.
Issa made her way down the grassy bank and along the stream to where it ran clearest. Her hands shook as she cupped the
frigid water and drew it to her lips. The water was crisp cold and she glugged it down again and again until her thirst was slated and the dull pain in her head diminished. The action was exhausting and she flopped back upon the damp green grass, her mind spinning.
The sun shone brightly above her, dappling through the green leaves of a birch tree that moved gently in the breeze. It was still summer, all was calm and silent. But the world was not right. Something sick and evil had happened and yet the world continued carelessly, mocking her with its warm sunlight. The day should be dark and stormy and filled with desolation and yet it was not. Her mind had been shattered and the fragile pieces were trying to come together to make sense of everything.
‘There had been lightning…’ Issa whispered, holding up hands. They seemed long and pale and thin against the dancing sunlit leaves, ‘…from my fingers.’
She reached out to grasp a tree branch and inched herself up onto her feet. She had heard of magic but never seen it, it was something the Wizards and Witches and Seers did, but they were all on the Main Land, far away from here. She glanced down at her shaking hands and then held them away and behind her body, suddenly afraid and loathing them.
I am not the person I thought I was. I do not know who I am. She swallowed a painful lump. Ma is gone. I cannot even gift her ashes to the winds now.
Issa turned away from the cave and in a daze walked haltingly on exhausted legs, leaving the remains of the home she had grown up in without looking back. The minutes turned to hours as she made her way along the dusty road east and a little north toward the village where she worked at the smithy. Laron could help her for sure, although the thought of speaking to anybody, even Tar, made her cringe. Though only a few miles, it took a long time on slow, unwilling, feet.
An hour or so later she came to the first cottage at the edge of the village, or what was left of it. Like her home it too had been incinerated, a great black scar left on an otherwise untouched green hillside. It still smoked and Issa thought she saw a blackened body in the ashes, but turned away before she could be sure.
The next house had belonged to Tar’s Aunt but that too was a smoking ruin. Their rose garden, once filled with Sunset Reds and a few Rare Blues, was nothing but grey and black ash, even the stonewall was gone. Other destroyed houses came and went as she passed them by, the same black scars scraped across the landscape, as if the Dragons that Ma spoke of had left great claw marks in the ground where houses had been.
Issa passed by so many incinerated houses that, after a while, she no longer noticed them and no emotion stirred. Even when she saw the great blackened hole where once the village had been she did not flinch, but stared on dumbly, numb to everything. She was an empty tin can in which the remnants of her consciousness rattled.
There to the east she could make out the crumbled building of the smithy, the indestructible anvil standing defiantly amongst the rubble. Directly north from the smithy was Tar’s house and though once visible from where she was it was now indistinguishable. Nothing stirred, all was silent.
Not wanting to see the charred forms of the dead she turned left due north to avoid going through the town and followed a path she had only taken once before. She remembered it led to the sea and there would be no towns or villages along the way, no more black scars to see, blessedly, she thought.
Issa didn’t know where to go, only that it seemed she should keep moving rather than remaining still, and so she walked. She could not remember when she had last eaten, but the thought of swallowing anything was abhorrent and so she ignored the light-headedness and growing weakness in her body. Even in this state her irrepressible reason told her that the body could not be ignored forever. Ma had been strong, her mind whispered. I should be strong for her, even though she isn’t here.
The path would become the northern coastal path and though it was the long way round and least travelled path, she could follow it all the way into Kammam, the main port town on Little Kammy’s eastern coast. Kammam was where all the merchant ships, fishermen and passenger ferries docked. There they had huge underground storehouses filled with food and cider, tools and clothing, everything really, all coming from the other islands, even from the Main Land. At the port they would detail what had arrived and where it was going and store it in the cool warehouse, ready to be carried on to the towns and villages across Little Kammy.
Even if the port had been burnt, and she tried not to think about that, there was a chance the underground storehouses would be untouched. Perhaps it was still vibrant and bustling with people and her coins could buy a filling meal and a bed for the night. Her spirits perked up at the thought, and though she didn’t really know anybody in Kammam, they might know her Ma and would definitely know Farmer Ged and Tar’s father. Besides, they would know she was a local and everybody on Little Kammy helped each other, especially if they were in need.
Maybe she could find some shoes and clothes now hers had been incinerated and the ones she wore were ripped and shredded. Yes, even if the Dread Dragons had come there the underground storage would have escaped any fire and remained hidden from marauding hordes. There could even be people there in hiding, or still coming from other islands not knowing of the hordes. Get to the Main Land, Ma had said. Well she would try and the only way to do that was to take a boat from Kammam.
A glimmer of hope sparked within her. ‘Be strong for Ma,’ she whispered into the wind.
She set a faster pace along the North Road, her legs strengthened with burgeoning hope. Though she would encounter no more burnt out villages it would be a long hard walk over rocky ground, and could take more than a day.
There was no accessible coast until the port, only tall black cliffs and white foaming sea far below them. But she had a good eye and was certain to find wild salicorn on the way, though it’s thick green shoots would be young and a bit chewy right now. And there was sea buckthorn, the fruit should be ripe, perhaps even fuchsia berries if she was really lucky. She focused her thoughts on hunting for food as she walked; it helped shut out all else.
The dirt road swiftly became a rocky little used path that barely cut through thick thorny gorse and stunted wind-swept hawthorn. Here and there the odd rock oak stood, their twisted limbs defying the relentless wind as they thrust upwards. In an hour she reached the jagged coastline, the damp salty smell of the sea lay heavy in the wind that blew stronger here.
On the left of the path the land fell away and she peered over the edge, her eyes following the long drop down black rock cliffs to a surging sea that hammered relentlessly upon fallen boulders. On the horizon, far away to the north, dark clouds massed and the smell of rain and thunder drifted on the breeze. Storms were unusual in summer, but weather was quickly changeable upon the islands. Still it might miss Little Kammy, she thought, but hastened her step anyway, keeping her eyes open for anything edible growing.
She spied the luminous green stems of wild salicorn with a cry of delight. Her stomach gave an excited growl as she carefully plucked a good handful of them, making sure to leave enough of the plant behind so it would not wither and die. Wild salicorn was a good find and where there was one there would be more. She set about chewing on the edible stems as she walked, finding them delicious in her current famished state.
A little later she spotted the vivid orange berries of sea buckthorn up a little to the right of the path. But when she got there she could not reach the branches and the few berries seemed rather small; either it was a young bush or stunted. Still she tried to reach them, angling a broken stick over the lowest branch and pulled hard to scrape off the berries and thorns. It was a mushy mess but she licked the sour-sweet pulp off her fingers eagerly as she walked, feeling the simple nourishment fill her body with energy.
Half an hour later the wind had dropped but the clouds still moved swiftly, as if of their own volition, and were closing in. They were not the colour of rain clouds but a muddy brown, like the inside of a rotten apple. Streaks of lightning cracked w
ithin them but did not reach out to strike the sea, seemingly confined only within the cloud.
The raven’s caw made her jump. She jumped again as he landed with a thud on the path before her. She steadied herself for balance against the stump of a broken oak, suddenly dizzy with exhaustion.
‘Were it not for you I would be dead.’ She wasn’t sure if she was thanking the raven or admonishing him. The raven cawed urgently and jumped about. Issa sighed, ‘What now? As if enough hasn’t happened already. I’m too tired to care anyway and it looks like bad weather is coming,’ she indicated to the rushing clouds on the horizon, ‘I am heading to Kammam, come or not as you please. But that is where I am heading,’ she said finally and started walking.
She looked back and grinned in victory. The raven followed her this time, hopping uncertainly from rock to rock, always glancing up at the ruddy clouds. Something had the bird spooked but she was beyond caring. The only safe place to be found was in Kammam anyway. She had to fend for herself now and that gave her a little strength. She would survive for Ma if nothing else.
It was not long before the clouds were above them. A blustery gust of wet wind suddenly knocked her off balance. She fell to the right and clung to the rocky wall, the raven huddled against the ground beside her. She pushed herself back up and moved as far away as possible from the sheer drop to the left of the path. There was nothing to stop her rolling all the way into the ocean should she fall. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea, she thought, not with the weather closing in. The coastal path was rocky and very narrow too.