Dragons of the Dawn Bringer: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 5

by Araya Evermore

  The wind picked up as they moved farther from shore and they navigated the short distance to the north island rapidly. At the jetty, Domenon jumped out first and offered his hand to help her. She refused it.

  ‘I’m not a princess. I can do things for myself,’ she said, smiling thinly.

  ‘Indeed. I forget you are a queen,’ said Domenon.

  Again, she couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not. She chose to ignore it and led the way along the path. All of the elves had been provided with shelter on the main island now, but a handful of empty tents remained here, the white tarp flapping in the breeze.

  They reached the trees and she glanced back before she lost sight of the coast, half hoping to see Asaph running up behind them. He wasn’t and there was no other boat in the channel. With a sigh, she carried on. Clouds covered the sun now and then, and it was cold whenever they were plunged into shade. She lifted the collar of her robes higher. The smell of pine was rich in her nostrils and white squirrels jumped here and there, carrying and burying acorns in preparation for the coming winter.

  ‘So what is this Asaph to you, then?’ Domenon asked.

  Issa almost stopped in her tracks. ‘That’s rather forward, don’t you think?’ She felt her cheek grow warm. ‘Are you married? Have children? What’s your wife like in bed?’

  Domenon raised his eyebrows and laughed heartily. ‘No, I’m not married. Nor do I have a wife or children, so I couldn’t know what she is like in bed. My one devotion is to the Queen of Davono, but we are far from lovers. Respected acquaintances, you could say. She gives me power and excellent food and accommodation, and I give her protection and all the services a Master Wizard can provide.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re very successful,’ said Issa, and hid a half-smile when he scowled. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘You know I’m older than humans thanks to my—’ he began.

  ‘Yes, because of your mixed heritage,’ Issa cut him off, not wanting to hear it again.

  ‘Anyway, you evaded my question,’ Domenon broke in. ‘Are you embarrassed? Don’t you like the man’s obvious attentions towards you?’ Domenon said.

  ‘Asaph and I are not married,’ said Issa, getting cross.

  ‘Still not answering the question,’ said Domenon.

  She pulled up short and leant towards him speaking firmly. ‘Look, what’s between me and Asaph is none of your business, nor anyone else’s. Given that Baelthrom hunts me to no end, I find it unwise to get too involved with those who might be killed just because they are close to me. My adopted mother was murdered and my friends. I don’t want to see any more die because of me, all right?’

  ‘You can’t stop people getting themselves killed, you can only protect yourself,’ said Domenon, his face serious.

  ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ she said, her temper making it difficult to control her tongue. ‘I’m not surprised you’d say something like that. You do, after all, only look after yourself, isn’t that right?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Domenon shrugged, completely unruffled. ‘But you can’t help others if you can’t help yourself. I’m merely questioning your relationship with the man. Men don’t like to be led on.’

  ‘Pah.’ Issa stalked onwards. Domenon followed, matching her pace easily with his long legs. ‘I’m not leading him on…I’m simply trying to get on with things. Just because I’m female, my life isn’t all about getting married and having children, you know.’ She was almost running now but he kept stride easily beside her.

  ‘I like that it isn’t,’ said Domenon.

  She side-glanced at him. Was he laughing at her? He gave a wide smile that lacked any mockery. She looked away feeling her cheeks get even hotter. Unable to keep the pace up, she hugged her chest and slowed.

  ‘I think you don’t know what to feel about him and perhaps you are even scared of your feelings,’ intuited Domenon. ‘He should help you feel confident and strong. And I’m sorry about those you’ve lost. Sometimes I forget to think about the impact of my words. I spend a long time away from people surrounded only by my studies. It can make you a little socially inept.’

  Issa nodded, accepting his humble explanation and masking her surprise at his admissions.

  ‘He does help me feel strong. And it’s not like you to admit to a weakness,’ she muttered.

  ‘Everyone has a weakness. Perhaps one of mine is unmarried women,’ Domenon said, his face nothing but innocence.

  ‘You desire power and the orbs above all else. Even I can see that,’ she said it with a laugh.

  He didn’t disagree.

  ‘Look, there’s the tree.’ She pointed to Sheyengetha as they rounded a corner. ‘It’s so beautiful.’

  The vivid green, majestic canopy moved gracefully in the breeze and the late afternoon sun diffused and spread a golden light around it. Songbirds sang and jumped amongst its branches, and a squirrel scooted up its trunk. Bright irises cast vivid indigo spots around its base.

  ‘Some say it’s the most beautiful, wisest tree in all Maioria,’ said Domenon loudly as if he wanted the tree to hear. ‘I remember when the tree was young.’

  ‘That must have been hundreds of years ago,’ said Issa, shocked.

  Domenon simply smiled at her. She found herself searching his face for any hint of elven. He was handsome, yes, although she hated to admit it, with his chiselled features, dark hair and sultry, brooding eyes—but they weren’t elven. He was taller than most men, though not slender like an elf but broader. The mystery around him deepened and she looked away.

  He laid a hand on the tree, closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to communicate with it. She, too, laid a hand upon it and was surprised to find the pale blue bark warm.

  ‘You don’t fool me, Domenon,’ Sheyengetha whispered, in a deep, calm voice. A sound like a low wind rustling through leaves. ‘Or should I call you by your real name? I know who you are, what you are.’

  Issa dropped her hand with a gasp. She could hear the tree speak so clearly. She glanced at Domenon wondering what Sheyengetha meant but he was scowling and looking only at the ground. She placed her hand back on the tree and heard them speaking again.

  ‘I am your friend, as always. We need to know where the orb is,’ said Domenon.

  ‘From you and Baelthrom, the orb is safe. Before Daranarta left his mortal body, he bound it to another,’ said Sheyengetha.

  ‘You don’t know my plans, Sheyengetha, no one does. And I am changing them even as we speak,’ said Domenon.

  ‘Deceit is never honoured by Woetala’s trees,’ said Sheyengetha. ‘Soon the light will shine through your disguise and pretences.’

  ‘Like the seers and elves, I simply keep myself protected,’ whispered Domenon harshly.

  He clearly didn’t want Issa to hear any of this and she wondered what on earth he was hiding. Should she fear this man?

  ‘That is understandable in these times, but trees see the truth of things and cannot be fooled,’ repeated the tree.

  ‘Where is the orb? We can help bring it back if it is trapped the other side,’ said Issa. Regardless of Domenon’s shadiness, he was right—the orb needed to be found and protected immediately. Baelthrom might even be the other side of the gateway still hunting for it.

  ‘The orb is beyond the gate, Raven Queen, held by an elf who is in limbo,’ said Sheyengetha.

  ‘Then let us enter and retrieve it… and him,’ said Domenon.

  The tree was silent for a long time. Issa fidgeted. The Master Wizard clenched his jaw impatiently. Then the tree spoke. ‘Only one may enter, but with the knowledge, they might not return.’

  ‘Then let me pass,’ Domenon hissed.

  The tree was silent. Issa looked at him then back at the tree. Perhaps it had been a stupid idea to bring Domenon here so close to an orb in this state. Why hadn’t she thought to bring the other wizards? Even Sheyengetha didn’t seem to trust the man.

  ‘You said there’s an elf in limbo,’ said Issa. ‘
If he’s between the living and the dead, I can reach him.’ Domenon glowered at her. ‘You know my gifts, Domenon.’

  ‘As you wish, Raven Queen,’ said Sheyengetha.

  Before she was ready, Issa felt her hands sinking into the tree as its trunk dematerialised into light and the gateway opened. She stumbled forwards.

  Golden light surrounded Issa and the rich smell of earth and forest filled her nostrils. Sheyengetha’s great presence was all around and her body melded with the tree. She felt her feet becoming roots digging deep into the cold, dark soil. Her head and arms reached up to the heavens, soaking up the life-giving light of the sun, and her body was infinitely strong and rigid.

  She moved forwards and felt her human body return to her as she emerged into a perfectly round space. Her breath caught in her throat at its beauty. Golden brown roots and branches entwined around, above and below her forming the walls of the circle and the air sparkled with light. She appeared to be standing in an inner space within the tree itself, although the area was surely bigger than the trunk of the tree. The air here was thick with the smell of wood resin.

  She took a few steps forward. White and purple light flared and covered the wall of roots in front and above her. A figure formed in the light above, pale hair spread out around him like a sun, arms stretched wide and welcoming like a statue of the divine. His eyes were closed and his face, with its gentle, knowing smile, was the picture of serene bliss.

  ‘Averen,’ she breathed.

  ‘He cannot answer. Together we both hold and guard the gateway,’ Sheyengetha’s voice echoed around her.

  Remembering her mission, she walked forwards beneath Averen and towards the light which became a slow moving vortex of white. What would she find beyond it? Baelthrom? A hundred Dread Dragons? She swallowed and lifted a hand. She should have let Domenon go instead. Think only about the orb, it is safer with me. She nodded to herself. A man hung in limbo and she had the chance to save him. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and stepped forwards.

  The momentary peace and silence in the white vortex were destroyed by raging winds and an inferno of red flames. It was so hot she lifted her arms to shield her face and stepped back so she was half within the safety of the vortex.

  In front of her, great tornados of fire whirled between earth and sky. Her hair and clothes whipped around her, trying to tear themselves from her body. Red and black clouds raced above. The ravaging fire was burning on nothing. There was only ash at her feet and no trees, houses or anything else. Was this what had become of the beautiful Land of Mists? Were there Dread Dragons somewhere above?

  Baelthrom could be here. Sweat trickled down her brow and her hands trembled. She was too shaken to form control over the erratic Flow and it slipped out of her grasp. She placed the talisman on her chest and screamed the spell to enter the realm of the dead.

  The roar dimmed to silence and, for the first time, she was relieved to emerge into the silent and empty Dead Realm. Gone were the raging winds and towering infernos. Instead, in the grey world, there were lots of something else—ghosts. More than she had ever seen. She gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth to keep from making a noise.

  Ghostly elves floated between the trunks of massive grey trees. Others stood still, bunched together in clusters and turned inwards to each other as if in conversation, their shoulders hunched and hands clasping.

  Issa’s heart hammered in her chest and she swallowed. All the recent dead. The grief was palpable, suffocating and she blinked back tears. Zanufey, please find them, gather them and take them to their endless forests of Woetala. She wanted to help them, but what could she do?

  I have to find the orb, she reminded herself, wrapping her arms around her as a form of protection. She closed her eyes and focused on the Flow. It was grey and sluggish, a ghost of its former power like the Dead Realm itself, and it revealed nothing of the orb’s whereabouts. She opened her eyes with a sigh. A black shape landed at her feet, making her jump.

  ‘Ehka, where have you been?’ she whispered, utterly relieved. ‘Thank the goddess you came. Do you know where the orb is?’

  The raven hopped in a circle, cocking his head now and again. Then he flew off ahead. Shivering, she rubbed her arms and followed him, trying to tread carefully around the huddling souls of elves. They did not even look up. Perhaps she was just a ghost to them?

  Ehka flew through the trees but didn’t go far. He landed on the ground beside a huddled shape. Issa came closer, tiptoeing silently. The shape was a man sitting with his head buried between his knees, and hands clasped over his head. His long hair was draped around him and he appeared to be sobbing or groaning. Though everything about him was grey—his cloak, trousers, hands and pale hair—he looked as solid and real as Ehka beside him, and not ghost-like at all.

  Licking her lips, she dared to touch his shoulder and jumped back in alarm as she felt his solidarity. He looked up at her, his face ravaged by sorrow and covered in cuts and dirt. How can he be here? Was he alive or dead? His face was ashen, even his lips and eyes and hair, unlike a real, healthy, living elf. He looked dead and yet he was solid. He looked like she had in the Shadowlands. She shuddered. He’s in limbo, just as I was… The concept unnerved her.

  ‘Who are you?’ The elf man demanded, jerking himself up to tower above her. He lifted his arm as if to shield himself from her. ‘Leave me alone!’

  ‘Don’t be afraid, I’ve come to help.’ Issa sought to soothe him, hoping to push back the crushing loneliness she knew he would be feeling in this place.

  ‘Who are you? Where am I?’ He opened his arms a little to peer at her between them. His eyes went wide. ‘I know you, you’re the one who saw it coming! You knew he’d come, why didn’t you help us?’ He lunged forwards and grabbed her shoulders in a surprisingly strong grip.

  ‘I tried to,’ she said, pushing his hands off. ‘But you wouldn’t listen to me and sent me away. Zanufey cannot help those who refuse her aid. You’re lucky anyone has come back here to find you.’

  ‘Where am I? I am dead. Sometimes I see ghosts. Sometimes I recognise them. I run from them…’ The elf man’s eyes darted around. ‘Are you a ghost?’

  ‘No. And you’re not dead, not fully. You’re in limbo. Through the grace of Averen and Sheyengetha, your life may have been saved. Where is the Orb of Earth?’

  ‘Is that what this is all about?’ He scowled. ‘You’re one of them in disguise, come to take the orb from me like you tried to take it from Daranarta. Hah! Daranarta was smarter,’ he grinned wildly. ‘He gave his life to protect it—’

  ‘Daranarta was a fool who caused the Land of Mists to fall and thousands to die,’ Issa cut him off. ‘I don’t want the orb but if you don’t let me help you, either you’ll stay in limbo forever or Baelthrom will find you. Many of your kind have escaped to Maioria and you alone are being given a second chance to do so.’

  ‘Stay here? Forever?’ The man shook visibly.

  ‘Come with me.’ She held out a hand. ‘I can help get you out.’

  She didn’t expect him to take her out-stretched hand, but fear must have got the better of him and he did.

  ‘Follow me and try to be quiet. They won’t see us if we don’t draw their attention.’

  Gripping his hand tightly, she followed Ehka back to Sheyengetha. Even in the Dead Realm, the great tree was impressive. It was grey like the others, but it wasn’t wilted and instead stood proud; its huge round crown covered in grey leaves, and its thick trunk solid and strong.

  She paused before the swirling light in Sheyengetha’s trunk and turned back to the man.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Orphinius,’ he told her.

  ‘Orphinius,’ she said, her face sombre, ‘I don’t know what state your physical body will be in when we return but we will do everything we can. Expect it to hurt.’

  He nodded and licked his lips. Gripping his hand tightly, she pressed the talisman against her chest.

 
‘Return us to the living,’ she commanded and stepped into Sheyengetha.

  There came living warmth and pure air. Her physical body solidified. A world of colour replaced the grey. The golden light in the centre of Sheyengetha was so vivid and bright after the Dead Realm she blinked and squinted. For one horrifying moment, she could feel nothing and thought she had let go of Orphinius’ hand.

  He appeared moments later beside her and sagged. She pulled his arm over her shoulder, struggling to hold him up. Now no longer in the realm of the dead, the wounds on his face bled freely and blood swiftly soaked his midriff. Staggering under his weight, she tried to drag him forwards.

  He had the orb, she could feel its power in the Flow. It was pulsing green light even through the fabric of his pocket. Relief washed over her. She became aware of tinkling music, like fairy songs. With a start, she realised Sheyengetha was singing to the orb. Images formed in her mind; flowers moving in the breeze, leaves rustling in autumn, the rich green of spring pastures. The music was so gentle and pure it brought tears to her eyes.

  Sweating and panting under Orphinius’ weight, she glanced back one last time at Averen. His eyes flicked open and flared purple light. He was smiling and she wondered if he could see her.

  ‘Come back to us, Averen,’ she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion.

  ‘Not yet, Raven Queen,’ his melodic voice whispered in her mind. ‘Fear not Domenon.’

  Wondering what he meant, she nodded anyway. Orphinius groaned, bringing her back to reality, and she moved with urgency back the way she had entered. Roots and branches faded into pale light as she drew close. Everything became very dense and the air thick, earthy and hard to breathe. Then she stepped onto green grass.

  12

  Tree Whisperer

  ISSA fell through the other side of Sheyengetha, unable to hold up Orphinius’ sagging weight any longer.

  She rolled the elf onto his back on the grass. He was in a bad way, shaking uncontrollably and all his wounds bled freely, as if they had been held in stasis in the realm of the dead and now were reopened. Blood matted his long, platinum blond hair and his clothes were in tatters.