‘I know how to bring them here,’ she told Fenn. He flicked his ears back and forth.
Jarlain stared across the ocean, blinking against the bright sunset that turned the clouds into blazing pink and orange ribbons. Marakon hugged her closer against his chest as they stood on a wide, shingled beach watching the sun sink into the sea. The surf scraped the worn pebbles backwards and forwards in an oddly soothing monotonous din.
Behind them in the forest came the distant sound of soldiers training, their voices and clang of weapons faint. They currently camped a long way south of Wenderon with a thousand other soldiers tasked with freeing any Maphraxie captured farms and villages. Four farms and two villages had since been liberated and the Maphraxies burnt to nothing but dust.
She squeezed Marakon’s arms. She finally had everything she ever wanted, and now she dared to risk it all by leaving him to return to her people.
‘I am the highest ranking commander here,’ said Marakon for the second time. ‘I can come with you with a whole unit of soldiers if I choose to. I will be able to convince my officers.’
‘This is not a war party but a saving of survivors, if any remain,’ said Jarlain. ‘Of course I want you to come with me, but you are needed here. And what about Issa? What if the raven comes? If you’re halfway across the world, that’s even harder for it to find you. You left me once to return to your home, and I thought I’d never see you again. Now, it seems, I must do the same. It is my duty to my people and to Hai.’
Marakon sighed heavily. ‘I just cannot stand the thought of you out there alone against the enemy. I don’t want to argue about it again. I know why you do it, but I still hope the boatman won’t answer your call.’
Jarlain smiled. His protective nature was touching. They had argued about her decision last night—their first—but he had given up quickly, seeing the determination in her eyes.
‘Great Doon says the Navadin will return. I realise now that I must lead the Bear Riders of old, or at least awaken them to our ancient past. No one else can do it. Those who remain must be saved.’
She turned to look up into his violet eye and saw the protest on his face though he said nothing. ‘I will return soon. Murlonius will know where to take me. You’ve said yourself he once carried a whole army. Whatever is left of my people, of the tribes of the ancient Navadin, I will find them and bring them back here to safety.
‘I have seen in Hai’s staff that not one tribe can withstand the forces of Baelthrom. They will fight to the death, yes. Until none remain. I cannot let that happen. Look to how you feel about your elves. Despite your anger at them, you still desire to save them. I must do the same for my people. I must!’
He took a deep breath. ‘Why do I always pick stubborn, headstrong women?’
Jarlain laughed. ‘Because you like a challenge.’
He held her hands, his expression serious. ‘Promise me you will not leave Murlonius’ boat if there is danger or enemies near. You get your people and you get out. Don’t hang around.’
‘I promise,’ she said, and stroked the dark stubble on his cheek.
He looked at the ground. ‘If you don’t return, I shall come and find you.’
‘I won’t be gone that long,’ she said, trying to convince him more than meaning the words. She didn’t know if she would return and she didn’t dare think about it. ‘If I don’t go now, who will be left of my people?’
He nodded. ‘But I need more than just your word.’
He pulled out of his pocket the stone she had given so long ago decorated with a bear on one side and a sun on the other. He placed it on the ground. Unsheathing his sword, he put the point on the stone and struck it so it split into two perfectly shorn halves. Picking up the broken pebble he gave her one half. She looked at it curiously. He held his half next to hers, making the bear whole again.
‘Always carry your luck stone,’ he said. ‘And I’ll carry mine. It’s a silly thing but it links us strongly together.’
‘No, it’s not silly,’ Jarlain blinked back tears, remembering it was the only thing that had led her to him. ‘It is the perfect thing.’ She kissed the stone and slipped it in her pocket.
He embraced her roughly, running his hands through her hair. She breathed in his smell, her cheek pressed against the firmness of his chest.
‘Don’t let me bury another wife,’ he said hoarsely in her ear. ‘At least let us die together. I can’t die alone again.’
‘You won’t,’ said Jarlain as they pulled apart. She wiped the tears from her face and saw Fenn loping out of the forest behind. The bear slowed to a lazy walk, his great bulk swaying.
‘I’ll wait with you until the boatman comes, unless you want to wait until tomorrow?’ said Marakon.
‘If I go now, I’ll follow the sun. It will still be light when I arrive.’
She struggled into her cuirass and Marakon helped tighten the straps. She had a blade concealed in each boot, a knife at her belt, and a spear in the sheath beside the staff on her back. Marakon kissed her one last time, a long, passion filled kiss that left her wanting more. Hooking her helmet under her arm, she looked at Fenn who had stopped beside the shoreline.
‘I’m glad he’s with you, although I’ve never seen a bear cross an ocean in a boat before,’ Marakon grinned. ‘Make sure he protects you.’
‘I don’t think he quite understands what he’s let himself in for, but he won’t leave my side,’ said Jarlain. ‘His presence will help awaken my people.’
‘I’m beginning to think I need to swap my horse for a bear,’ said Marakon, making her laugh.
They went to stand beside Fenn, Marakon eyeing him with a curious yet wary expression. He still hadn’t got used to the huge beast. Jarlain laid a hand on Fenn’s head and the bear gazed at her. With a sigh, she turned to the ocean and stilled her mind.
‘Murlonius,’ she said, loud and low.
Twice more she repeated the name. Fenn stared out across the ocean.
So slowly it was barely perceptible, the waves began to calm, the din of the surf dropped and everything became still. There was no wind and no sound of anything. A patch of mist formed on the horizon then flowed towards them. Within it, the carved, serpent-head prow of the boat appeared, an unlit lantern swaying in its teeth.
Not one person stood in the boat, but two.
Jarlain stared up at the boatman and woman, unable to take her eyes off the people before her whose beauty surpassed even the elves. Though clothed in thick, simple grey cloaks and tan breeches, their flawless faces were full of life and youth as if they had never aged a day passed thirty.
Yisufalni radiated light; her pale, pearlescent skin gleamed and her slanted, violet eyes were wide and bright. Her faintly pastel blue hair was long like Murlonius’, though his was tied back. The most disconcerting thing about her was her long, six-fingered hands that folded neatly over each other. Those hands reached to take hold of her own. The Ancient had a surprisingly strong grip as she helped Jarlain into the boat.
‘You no longer age?’ asked Marakon, his eyes wide as he held the boat steady.
‘Well met, Marakon Si Hara,’ said Murlonius beaming with joy as he inclined his head. ‘Now we are finally together, the curse is weakened and I no longer age when I near land. But still, our energy dwindles the longer we spend on Maioria’s shores. We have not found a complete cure for it yet, perhaps there is none.’
‘Destroying Baelthrom will cure all ills,’ said Marakon with a hard smile.
‘Then let us pray that that time is not far away and we will be victorious,’ said Murlonius. He turned to Jarlain. ‘But what is this? I see another prophecy fulfilled, the awakening of the ancient Navadin.’ His smile deepened as Fenn waded into the water to sniff the boat.
‘The Navadin were old when our race was young,’ said Yisufalni, her voice soft and melodious.
‘I only remember parts. Fenn remembers more.’ Jarlain nodded to the bear who was now on his hind legs and towering abov
e Marakon. ‘Don’t worry, Fenn, it is big enough. It will stretch.’
The bear said nothing but leapt powerfully into the boat. They all fell back as it rocked violently. Marakon clung to the side to keep it from capsizing as everybody tried to hang on to something. The boat stretched imperceptibly to accommodate the bear. Everyone regained their seats, thankful for not being dumped into the sea.
‘Now you will be inseparable until death takes one of you,’ laughed Murlonius to Jarlain, though his eyes were on the bear.
‘I’d do anything for a normal life and a normal relationship,’ sighed Marakon, a wan grin on his face.
Jarlain laughed. ‘Nothing can come between you and I. Fenn will protect you too, you know.’
‘Just bring her safely back to me,’ said Marakon to Fenn, and he pushed the boat into the still waters.
Murlonius nodded to Marakon then took his seat and began to row.
Jarlain did not take her eyes off Marakon. How strange it is that once he left me to return to his home and I thought I’d never see him again. Now I leave him to return to mine. I will see you again, my beloved. She kissed her hand and held it up. Marakon lifted his own.
‘The journey of every life is a beautiful, complex dance. A dazzling vision of movement of the most perfect choreograph,’ said Yisufalni. ‘We should never be afraid of anything, and yet all of us lose ourselves in the dance of life.’
Jarlain pondered the Ancient’s words as Marakon disappeared on the horizon, her arm resting on Fenn’s shoulders beside her.
22
Dark Light
ASAPH’S head swam to the sound of chanting.
Men and women’s voices rose and fell in waves that were sickening, monotonous and frightening. He swallowed against the tight metal choker around his neck and tried to open his eyes. Everything was bleary and his head pounded with the after effects of whatever magic spell had hit him.
He tried to move but found his arms had been chained behind his back to a stone wall. Everything was very dark apart from the red glow of a light coming from somewhere ahead of him. He was seated on the cold stone floor, his legs bound in front of him and he was naked, which concerned him deeply. Why would they take his clothes? To both his left and right were the hunched forms of other people also chained and naked.
He blinked trying to focus through the fog. This was more than magic; he had been drugged. His thoughts scattered easily and his body sagged, feeling as if it were made of lead. The chanting made him feel worse. He didn’t understand the words but maybe that was because of his befuddled mind. Water would help, he was desperately thirsty.
How had he got here? Where was here? I was in the temple grounds, then the priest came…
There came a whimper to his right and he realised the dark lump a few feet away was a child. A man coughed further along and there was the sound of a woman crying softly. His vision cleared briefly and in front of him were thick iron bars that reached from floor to ceiling. They were all in one long prison cell that curved around the rough walls and out of sight. He could see at least twenty people to his right and the same to his left. All were chained to the floor.
He must have drifted asleep then for his head jerked up to the sound of metal screeching on stone. The door to the prison was opening, creaking on its rusty hinges. He squinted up at two red-robed people, their faces hidden in their hoods. They weren’t looking at him; instead, they grabbed the boy beside him.
The boy moaned as they roughly gripped his skinny arms. From the size of him, he could only have been around eight years old. He began to wail; the awful sound of a doomed animal. Asaph tried to move but his body wouldn’t respond. He tried to shout but only mumbling came out over his thick tongue. There came a clap of magic and the boy slumped becoming silent and limp.
Asaph breathed hard as they dragged the boy away. Where were they taking him? He tried to speak but his mouth seemed full of wool. Beyond the bars appeared to be a room that was hidden from view by a stone wall. The room glowed red. He squinted and saw that there were several red-robed men and women clustered together before the room watching something that was out of his sight. Priests and priestesses, he thought, but why are they wearing red robes? Am I somewhere in the basement of the Temple of Carvon?
They parted to let the two carrying the boy through. The chanting began again and the priests moved out of sight. Asaph shook his head and tried to hum to get rid of the awful droning noise. It didn’t help. The chanting rose in pitch and fervour. Asaph’s heart pounded harder in response and he began to sweat with fear. Fear was thick here in this goddess-forsaken place.
From the red room there came a scream of absolute terror that drove right into his heart, scoured the walls and made it hard to breathe. He angled his head and tried to see around the corner. A deathly silence descended as the chanting stopped. Even the chained people around him made no sound, no crying or whimpering.
Asaph still couldn’t see any priests or priestesses. He released a long held breath, cold sweat trickling down his temples. The smell of terror was rife, even without his dragon form. What was going on behind that wall? Some kind of awful ritual.
Two different red-robed priests—a man and a woman he could see clearer now—stalked from the red room, their cloaks swaying. They opened a prison door further down. Asaph strained his eyes, willing them to focus. They reached down and grabbed an old man. He had a very long, scraggly beard and curling fingernails that hadn’t been cut in a long time. A homeless man dragged off the streets, or had he been imprisoned down here for years? The man moaned and shook, clearly drugged, but was unable to fight his captors as they dragged him away.
The chanting began again and, though Asaph didn’t want to, he tried to focus on what was being said. I know those words from the Recollection…it’s Dark Dwarven, he realised. He didn’t understand what was said but it made him shiver and his skin crawled.
Another howling scream of terror and pain cut through his thoughts. It went on and on and he wished he could cover his ears with his hands. The scream ended in a sickening gurgling noise and then, again, there was the terrible sound of silence. He thought he could smell blood.
Asaph looked to his left. There was a woman beside him. Her long brown hair covered her face and her nudity as she curled up against the wall. He thought she might be drugged and sleeping but saw she trembled uncontrollably.
‘Hey,’ he whispered to her. ‘What’s going on? Let’s try and get out.’ His voice was hoarse and his tongue didn’t work like it should but he managed to get the words out.
She just shook her head slightly and didn’t look up.
‘Hey,’ he tried again.
‘It’s no use,’ whispered a man beyond her. He seemed less drugged and more coherent than the woman. ‘Talking will make them pick you next.’
Asaph blinked at him, trying to make out his features but he was too blurry. All he could see was that the man was slim, muscled and maybe of a similar age to Asaph. Something about him seemed familiar, but without focus he couldn’t tell much more than that. From the man’s position further along the wall, Asaph wondered if he could see into the red room and what was going on.
Asaph dipped his gaze and hung his head when two red-robed priestesses stalked out of the red room. It seemed shameful but he was in no position to fight just yet. Maybe when the drug had worn off, he would. They opened a prison door opposite and dragged out a girl covered in dirt and grime. The girl hung limp and unmoving.
Was this really happening? Rage grew in Asaph, driving away the fear but making his head pound horribly. The maddening chanting began again and he clenched his fists and ground his teeth. This just couldn’t be happening, shouldn’t be happening. King Navarr would raze this place to the ground when he got out and told him. If he got out. What could he do? He couldn’t even stand up!
The chanting stopped. There was no sound. Adult voices came, speaking in angry tones.
‘They don’t like it when there
’s no terror,’ the man beyond the shivering woman whispered, then hushed and looked down as two priests appeared.
They opened the door closest to Asaph and he thought they were coming for him. He got ready to fight, bunching his muscles. A red-robed priest glanced at him, his dark eyes gleaming, piercing from within his hood. He had a feral, hungry look. Blood smeared his chin and lips.
Asaph curled back his lips and growled. ‘Take me you bastard. Let’s have some fun.’
‘You’re not ready to enter the Dark Light yet.’ A cruel smile twisted the man’s lips.
Asaph strained against his chains, trying to stand, to punch the priest, to do anything. He tried to yell but his voice was broken. The man placed a palm on Asaph’s head and pain exploded there. His growl turned into a rasping howl. His head thronged as if a gong had been stuck inside it and he thought his skull would explode. Waves of agony convulsed his body and he slumped.
When Asaph came to, he felt worse than he had ever done in his life, far beyond drinking a gallon of Kuapoh Fire Wine the night before. Thoughts of water filled his mind. His head pounded painfully and he could barely lift it. It was so cold he shivered. His legs and bottom felt frozen to the floor and his whole body was stiff and sore from being in the same position for hours.
Light trickled in from a couple of tiny windows far above them. It looked like daylight. There was no chanting anymore and as he looked around he saw several empty spaces where people had been. The woman next to him had gone, but the man who had spoken was still there. He was curled over to one side and appeared to be sleeping.
The hopelessness of the situation dawned on Asaph. He was underground in a dungeon waiting to be sacrificed to some “Dark Light” and nobody knew he was here. There were many priests and priestesses, some with powerful magic. He was horribly outnumbered.
A cold wind blew from somewhere and his keen dragon senses smelt blood on it. He wrinkled up his nose and shifted, trying to find a comfortable position with the few inches his chains would allow. He found some relief but soon grew sore and had to move again. He tried to lie down but the floor was so cold he sat back up.
Dragons of the Dawn Bringer: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 5 Page 27