by A. Evermore
‘The heir of Drax hoping to avenge his mother, how touching,’ Keteth said, his rotten breath brushed Asaph cheek.
‘Call to her, call to the sword,’ his mother’s voice echoed in his mind.
‘Issa! The flame ring calls,’ Asaph cried from the depths of his being, ‘bring to me the Great Sword of Binding!’
The blue flame flickered into life again, a spark of light suspended in the air in the grey shadows of his cell. Swiftly the flame grew into the form of a hooded figure, a faint indigo aura shimmered around her. Pale hands lifted back the hood and he looked upon a face that exuded eternal wisdom. A purifying cold reached into his heart as he stared in awe at the face of Zanufey.
‘No,’ he gasped in horror and pain as a tentacle found his neck and began to choke him, ‘please, Great Mother, I cannot die now. I cannot leave her!’ Her face softened into a faint smile filled with compassion and instead he realised he looked upon Issa’s face. “The dark moon rises with her,” Coronos’s words echoed in his mind and for a moment he understood the connection between Zanufey’s dark moon and his beloved.
‘Issa?’ he sputtered as the breath was crushed from him. She smiled and he saw that she now wore a crown of raven feathers upon her head and armour made of black Dragon scales. Her long dark hair was tied back and an ivory white dagger hung from her belt that appeared to be whispering Elven names though he could not understand the language. Why does Keteth not react? he thought, but the White Beast’s attention was solely focused upon his prey.
Issa turned to Keteth and her face became hard, her eyes seemed to glow and Asaph suddenly feared the ferocity about her, unable to comprehend this was the same woman he had found in the Shadowlands. She raised a finger at the beast and spoke in a voice as cold and hard as iron.
‘Behold the power of the dark moon, Keteth, the last Dragon Lord will not be yours!’
Magic charged the air, a dark and ancient force that Asaph had never felt before, and blue flames exploded all around them. The flames did not hurt Asaph and instead felt cool. But the White Beast screamed and writhed and loosened his grip, though not enough for Asaph to break free.
Issa called aloud but the din of the roaring flames was too much for Asaph to hear what she said. There came a flash of white light and in her hand appeared a sword with a blood red pommel. She grimaced in pain, as if the sword hurt her in some way, and held it out to him.
Asaph stared, open-mouthed, at the Sword of Binding. He wrenched his hand free and took it. Its power surged through him, filling him with strength. With all his might Asaph drove the sword deep into Keteth, the pommel flared into a blood red light.
Keteth shuddered and writhed and his howls shook the walls. He turned to flee, heaving his white mass away from the source of pain, his tentacles rolling and flopping and clumsily dragging him back into the darkness. The slithering howling dropped into silence and Asaph slumped back on the stone floor.
‘Is it really you Issa?’ he struggled to get his breath. She was different from how he knew her before, stronger, more real and yet further away from him.
Issa smiled down at him, ‘It is who I must become. Your spirit is free from Keteth’s prison, but he can only be defeated in the incarnate world. Return to us, Asaph,’ she said, and bent to kiss him on the forehead. There came a great rushing sound like the wind and his mind was released.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Seeking Solitude
The flame ring upon her finger burst into life that evening as Issa strolled alone through the lantern-lit gardens after dinner. It flared into orange light and grew so hot it nearly burned. Then the vision came from it, unexpected, unwanted and forceful. Issa staggered to her knees, her nose trickled blood from the pressure in her head and she struggled to get air into her lungs.
Asaph fled from Keteth through a barren ghostly landscape that constantly changed. She cried out as he fell and became a soft golden light that grew dimmer as his strength failed.
‘It cannot be. He is safe, isn’t he?’ But she knew he wasn’t. I have to help him, how can I help him?
‘Asaph!’ She cried. The flame ring dimmed blue in response and as it did so darkness surrounded her as if the ring commanded it. The fading light of Asaph was in the distance. She ran towards him but there was something in the way, like an invisible shield of glass. She pressed herself against the glass and screamed.
‘Fight! You must fight!’ she slammed her fists against the shield but it would not break.
‘Come to me, Issa,’ a cold voice slithered through her mind and her heart shuddered. She fell back from the invisible shield as the cold crept through her. The golden light faded and her ring grew cold. She stood alone once more in the Shadowlands on the windswept cliff, the emptiness creeping into her soul.
‘No, you shall not have him,’ she screamed, and then a thought came to her. ‘Asaph calls me. Zanufey, guide me,’ she prayed.
Not knowing if it would work, but refusing to believe otherwise, Issa focused all of her attention and will upon an image of the sacred mound in her mind and then looked at the flame ring, imaging she could see it there. She felt the flame ring responding. There came a flash of light and she stood before the sacred mound. There was no time to marvel at what she had done and she ran towards it.
The doorway was a mirror of the forest behind and her image was not in it. Issa looked down. She touched her flame-ringed finger to the mirror door, ripples fanned out in perfect circles. She stepped back as a dark image appeared in the mirror where her image should have been. She knew who it was even before the ripples settled. She stared back at her reflection dressed in Dread Dragon armour and a raven feathered crown.
‘Who are you,’ her image said. It wasn’t a question but a challenge. Issa pondered in confusion for a moment, taken off-guard.
‘I am… I am me. I am Issa,’ she faltered, doubtful, her words sounding hollow in the silence.
‘Do you really know who you are?’ her reflection said.
Issa began to sweat as she tried to think. Who am I really?
‘His tricks are many and powerful. Always you must know who you are. You are the now, the will at the moment that can shape the future,’ her reflection continued. Issa shook her head trying to understand. ‘Asaph, he is in terrible danger!’ she stammered desperately.
‘Who are you, Issa,’ her image repeated louder. Asaph’s screams echoed around her and she wrung her hands.
‘I am here... I am me...’ she felt angry and desperate, ‘who cares who I am? I am you!’ she shouted and reached out as if to grab hold of her image. Then she was falling into the darkness of the doorway. This time there was no solid ground the other side and instead she continued to fall in the blackness.
‘Issa!’ Asaph’s scream cut through the dark, striking her like an arrow in the heart. The flame ring on her finger flared orange and blue fire. In the darkness a flashing object spun towards her, as if it fell upwards whilst she fell downwards.
The sword with the red pommel! she gasped in recognition and reached to catch it as it spun past. Burning pain from the sword seared up her arm and she cried out. Every cell in her body was on fire but she would not let go of the sword.
Solid ground abruptly materialised beneath her feet and she staggered for balance. Before her the horrible sight almost made her forget the pain of the sword. Asaph entwined in Keteth’s crushing embrace. Forcing her eyes to look only upon Asaph’s deathly face, she thrust to him the sword. As soon as his fingers touched it the fire she felt killing her within now burst into Asaph, filling him with life.
The ring flared again one last time. There came a great jolt and then silence.
Issa blinked and found herself face down on the path gasping. She opened her eyes to the sound of running feet. In seconds Maeve was at her side with Ely hot on her heels.
‘Are you all right, missy? Did you fall?’ Maeve asked, full of concern.
‘There was a flash of light,’ Ely explained, breathless
ly, ‘it looked as if you had gone momentarily, but then you reappeared on the ground.’
‘I’m all right,’ Issa mumbled though her body trembled, ‘I had a vision, so real... I think he is in terrible danger.’
‘Who is? Who is in trouble, child?’ Maeve asked, giving her tissues to stem the blood flowing from her nose. Ely and Maeve helped her to sit down.
‘Asaph, the one who helped free me from the Shadowlands. This ring is a link somehow,’ she showed them the simple silver flame ring though it was dull and cold now.
‘Come, Issa, you had a fall,’ Ely said, taking her arm, ‘try not to worry about your friends now, for tomorrow is a... long day. Save your strength.’
Issa let the women help her to her bedroom, but when they had gone she lay awake for a long time, shaken to the core by what had happened. The vision, if it had indeed been a vision at all, had been so strong, the strongest she had ever had. It cannot have been a vision, it must have been real. But how is that possible? She knew Asaph was in terrible danger but what could she do? She looked at the flame ring; His mother’s ring, it links us some how.
Issa sighed. He had helped free her from her prison only to be killed by that which had imprisoned her. She shuddered at the memory of Keteth crushing the life from him. How could she possibly face that monster and not die of fear?
Freydel’s tutoring had been intense and she picked up what he taught her swiftly, but deep down she knew it was not enough. They were simple magics, mind wardings, protections, not enough to destroy something that had existed for millennia. I will never be ready, she thought. My magic will never be strong enough.
Perhaps then it would not be her magic that would destroy him, she thought. Her thoughts turned to Karshur’s dagger. She shivered. She would have to face him physically and even then how would she ever get close enough to kill him with it? Fear and doubt raked her mind; Tomorrow she would surely die.
Issa had almost given up on sleep when suddenly it came, but so did the nightmares. In them everything was dying; birds, animals, trees, all withered in sickness and died. Then she saw herself lifeless upon the surface of an ocean, slowly sinking down into the darkness.
Throughout the following day Issa felt the power of the dark moon growing. She sought solitude, of sorts, spending time only with Duskar. She cleaned and brushed his coat until it gleamed but he was subdued, hung his head, eyes not wanting to meet hers. She could feel his emotions, but fainter than before, as if he were hiding them.
‘It will be all right, Duskar, you will see.’ But she wasn’t at all sure that it would be all right. She had sworn an oath, made a promise, stepped too far along the path to turn back now. She tried not to think of the things that would happen if she failed. Every now and then she saw Asaph, his face contorted in terror as he fought Keteth. She felt sick to the pit of her stomach. Curse the Dromoorai, curse Keteth, if it wasn’t for them they would never have been in this mess, neither of them would, she thought bitterly.
Issa stopped brushing Duskar with a sigh and leant her head wearily against his shoulder, forcing her mind to stop the incessant thoughts. Duskar bent his head down and nibbled her thigh. Where was her twin, the one with the sword and the raven crown? Was she really supposed to be her? Was that who they all thought she was? I am a lie, she thought to herself. Only my pride has gotten me here. So lost in thought was she that she did not notice Freydel’s approach.
‘I did not mean to startle you,’ he said when she jumped. There was worry in his eyes. ‘I came to offer you strength, for what it is worth. Whatever happens tonight happens because it must be so. We have full belief in you. From my tower, where I am strongest, I will do all that I can to aid you.
‘Cirosa is here,’ he added after a moment. She grimaced and with slumped shoulders followed Freydel out of the stables, giving Duskar one last pat.
It was late in the afternoon and all was still, even the birds did not sing their usual evening songs but instead sat silent on their perches. Issa, Freydel, Lady Eleny, Cirosa and two Priestess attendants stood by the river at the edge of the castle grounds. The sun was sinking, turning everything into a golden colour. Issa felt the weight of expectation lie heavily on her shoulders, it was hard to carry but she refused to show her fear to the High Priestess who stood unsmiling before her. At least her pride gave her some resolve, she thought bitterly.
‘Are you ready, child?’ Cirosa asked.
‘Yes,’ Issa replied tightly, refusing to call her High Priestess. She smiled openly at Cirosa’s irritated sigh.
‘We have done everything we can in the time we were given, we can do nothing now but pray to the Goddess,’ Freydel said.
‘Then there is nothing our Order can do except give you your provisional robes as a Novice Priestess of our ranks,’ Cirosa said.
Issa took the well-worn and faded grey-white robes with a scowl but rather than protest and argue, she slipped them over her head. The sash around the waist was also grey, the mark of the lowest rank, but Cirosa’s face told her that even this rank she did not deserve.
‘We leave you now to do what you have been called to do. The Goddess will no doubt guide you,’ Cirosa smiled and then turned and led her Priestesses back towards the castle.
Lady Eleny hugged Issa and Freydel squeezed her shoulder but neither said anything, there was nothing more to say. Soon they, too, left her and she stood alone under the golden green leaves of oak and birch trees.
A little while later there came the sound of wings and a raven landed on a bow of the oak tree. ‘Not alone after all,’ she whispered, and smiled, grateful for the bird’s presence. Feeling it was time to go, she turned her back on the castle and followed the path she and Duskar had taken through the forest to the sea.
The raven followed, flying from tree to tree. She stilled her mind and all doubts as she walked, feeling comforted by Karshur as it swayed against her leg. When she reached the sea the sun was balancing on the horizon of a calm ocean. Long thin clouds looked like ribbons of fire in the setting sun.
Issa watched the ball of fire sink into the ocean, wondering all the while how she would find Keteth. He would come for her no doubt, he always did. The dark moon would rise tonight, and she could feel it was on its closest orbit around Maioria. The power was growing by the moment, she could see it behind her closed lids, could feel The Flow pulse from it as she felt her own heart beating. The dark moon called to her and how wonderful its power would be when it flowed once more through her.
The final rays of the sun disappeared and the sky became a smouldering orange that slowly faded into darkness. There were neither stars nor the moons of Doon and Woetala. All was still, silent and expectant. Only the dark moon, the moon of the Night Goddess, Zanufey, would rise tonight. Issa shivered with nerves and pulled her robes closer.
Karshur was chill and heavy against her leg, as if wanting to make its presence known. I will not think, I will only do, she told herself. The silence seemed deafening. An intense pressure suddenly gripped her mind. She opened herself to it.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Dark Moon Rising
The tip of the dark moon broke over the ocean where the sun’s light had died. Its rays ran across the water and fell upon her. Issa could feel the light energy of the moon like silk running over her body. She breathed in the light deeply, feeling the coolness fill her lungs and then her whole being.
Every cell in her body tingled with life and power. Her pulse quickened and she closed her eyes as The Flow moved through her in waves stronger than ever before.
As the moon rose higher so did the power of The Flow. What, at first, was a trickle soon became a great river of energy and she flowed with it, rushing forwards, a torrent of unstoppable power. At first she tried to control it and immediately knew she could not, and should not, not tonight. Instead she and the power would move as one. Tonight she was a vessel to be filled with the power of the dark moon and of Zanufey Herself.
Issa let The Flow take
her, let herself become the power. The knife grew warm against her thigh and the ring upon her finger was hot. She was drifting, expanding, as if her being was stretching out to become one with the moon, vast and powerful, rising above a still and expectant world, its awesome blue light spilling over the Goddess’s Sacred Isle.
Issa felt a familiar presence and opened her eyes with a smile. Under the surface moved the Wykiry.
‘Keteth sleeps. We will take you to him. In the ocean the power of the dark moon is strongest for Zanufey is also the Goddess of Water,’ they whispered. Issa stepped into the sea, the coolness of the water surrounded her thighs and then her chest. There was no turning back now. The Wykiry circled around her excitedly, their shimmering bodies, all metallic blues and greens and purples, shone in the blue moonlight.
‘Do not worry, Child of the Raven, this night is yours.’
Issa swallowed and nodded, silently praying to Zanufey that they were right. They closed around her and she held onto their long dexterous fins. A memory of purple lights swirling in the darkness came to her then.
‘It was you,’ she breathed, ‘you came for me when Keteth destroyed our boat,’ the Wykiry did not reply and only laughed a tinkling sound of agreement.
‘We were also there before, when you jumped from the Dromoorai,’ they explained, ‘but then Keteth also came.’
Issa wondered at that as they moved together out into the open ocean. They had always been near her in the ocean, they carried her all the way to the Isle of Celene and she had never realised. She flowed through the water with them and after a time felt as if she had become one of them. With a start she realised she was not breathing air. It was as if she breathed sea water, like the Wykiry.