The Fall Of Celene (The Prophecies of Zanufey Book 2)

by A. Evermore

  Kilkarn covered his ears from the booming sound of his Lord’s voice. For several minutes his words echoed around them and red magic fizzled around his furious Lord. When silence descended he tentatively spoke.

  ‘Lord Baelthrom. The Black Drink has been a great gift to us all,’ he lusted for it even now.

  ‘It can be better,’ Baelthrom said. ‘Yet despite all I offer, the people still worship this goddess, this being with many faces, the eternal Source of All. How can they pray to something without material form, something they cannot see? Do the people not see the life stolen from them? Do they not yearn for a life that never ends?

  ‘For all those years in my prison, I tried and failed to understand the people. I detest this thing to which they give their energies, this thing which makes death acceptable,’ Baelthrom’s voice rolled around the chamber and his eyes turned from gold to copper. ‘But I will find this thing and destroy it. I shall remove the chains the goddess has placed upon the people, and take her power. The people will then worship me, and I will give them something she does not. I will give them immortality and I will be a flesh and blood god who walks among them.’

  ‘Your mighty kingdom awaits you, my lord,’ Kilkarn bowed. ‘Like the Ancients who, in their arrogance, refused your immortal gift, those who refuse you shall be… assimilated.’

  A laugh rumbled from Baelthrom. ‘Indeed, the Ancients refused immortality as they refused to worship me. I hated them and pitied their short lives, though they lived far longer than any race alive today. Their arrogance was their downfall. It’s not just power that feeds me, Kilkarn, I also hunger for knowledge. There is more to life than just a physical body, there is the essence that animates, that which they call the soul.

  ‘I need to know where these souls go when they die, when they aren’t distilled into Sirin Derenax, or ensnared in Keteth’s Shadowlands. Keteth knows where they go, and that was why I let him live. But his mind is insane, and too difficult to read. This new… force, this dark moon and the Night Goddess of which the people now speak… The truth lies in there, and I must have it.’

  ‘You needn’t concern yourself about so small a thing,’ Kilkarn crooned. ‘Over centuries your army has amassed into vast numbers. None can withstand our might as we swarm across Maioria. Even great Drax, the place we thought would fall last, fell sooner. As they die fighting us, their bodies and souls are assimilated into our ranks. We can only grow stronger, an unstoppable force purging the planet of death.’ Kilkarn laughed, but his lord stayed silent for a time.

  ‘Yet still there is this change in Maioria,’ Baelthrom whispered. ‘A movement in the energies that entwine this world, and a presence I don’t yet understand - like another power let loose upon the world, or an ancient power reawakened. Nothing more than a gentle breeze, and yet this magic feels as old as the sun, and it grows in the west.’

  ‘What exactly is this power, Lord Baelthrom?’ Kilkarn stepped closer, but Baelthrom did not hear him. Kilkarn frowned and looked around. Everything had become completely still. Not that anything was moving anyway, there was not even a breeze that could reach in here. Instead it seemed as if time itself had stopped and they were suspended like frozen figures within it.

  ‘Keteth–’ Baelthrom’s words were cut off as a tidal wave of raw magical power surged through the room, through the fabric of Maioria. Kilkarn was knocked from his feet. The magical energy struck Baelthrom so hard he was forced to his knees. Kilkarn’s mind spun and his heart pounded. Lightning flashed all around them and danced off the iron ring. The Orb of Life flared into a myriad of colours.

  No longer were they suspended in time but being thrown about by magical forces. The magic grew in a crescendo that ripped through everything. Kilkarn gripped onto the pedestal he was beside. The iron ring blazed into life, flames of pure white ignited the chamber, and rippled like water spilling out from the ring’s centre. The force of it sent Kilkarn flying backwards into the wall, where he crumpled and lay winded. Baelthrom roared.

  Chapter 5

  Freydel

  ‘HMPH? What was that?’ Freydel sat bolt upright in his bed.

  He dragged the blankets closer around him as he struggled to work out where he was. He always awoke wondering where he was, such was the curse of a travelling wizard. The scrolls and maps littering his bed rustled around him as he moved and some fell to the floor but he did not notice, just like he had not noticed sleeping on top of them.

  There had been dark blue light pulsing everywhere and then a loud boom so low it was barely audible. He could still feel the after-tremors of that sound shuddering around him. He entered the Flow and it was alive with energy, a swirling maelstrom of indigo magic roaring noise that was slowly beginning to recede.

  ‘How strange,’ he whispered. Then his physical eyes adjusted to the room he was in.

  ‘Ah, my precious study,’ he sighed and relaxed his grip on the bed covers as he recognised his room in the round tower beside the Castle Elune. The familiar mess of scrolls, maps, books, jars and all manner of magical devices filled him with calm relief. He yawned wearily, half wondering why he still had his day clothes on, but it had been a late night and sleep descended swiftly. He yawned again widely and smacked his lips together.

  ‘The Flow is… Just nothing…’ he muttered and lay back down, pulling the covers around his shoulders.

  ‘Keteth!’ he shouted and jumped out of bed in one smooth motion straight into a pile of books.

  ‘Ugh,’ he gasped and sprawled forwards over them. ‘For goodness sake, I need light. Light!’

  Brilliant white light flashed at his command and every candle and gas lamp burst alight, blinding him so he still couldn’t see.

  ‘Curse it! Dimmer!’ the lights grew dimmer and he groped along the table to the secret drawer that contained the orb. By the time he had prised it out of its black velvet pouch his vision had returned a little, but now the orb was burning painfully in his grasp.

  ‘Yargh,’ he almost dropped the freezing orb onto the floor but it had a mind of its own and instead fell forwards neatly onto its holder atop his desk. Freydel rubbed his hand and scowled at the orb reproachfully, it was either burning hot or freezing cold, he still wasn’t sure.

  ‘Reveal to me the origin of that magical surge,’ he breathed holding his hands carefully above it. But the orb would not respond and all it showed was a constant swirling indigo light, just as he had seen in his dream before he had awoken, just as he saw in the Flow once he had awoken.

  ‘It is… busy. Hmm, I wonder what it is seeing, what it is recording,’ Freydel pulled on his beard. ‘Is Keteth dead? Is Issa dead?’ His body went cold at the last thought. Pray let it not be the latter! Without the orb I cannot scry…

  ‘Perhaps Lady Eleny has born witness to something.’

  He grabbed his staff, went to the door and pulled on his boots. With a click of his fingers a small ball of light lit up the doorway and the steps leading down. Forgetting his age he took the steps two at a time and all but jumped out of his turret. He ran breathlessly into the main building.

  The halls were dark save for his ball of light and the servants were still fast asleep. He ran up the wooden staircase, again two at a time, only to nearly collapse at the top. Clinging to the banisters he tried to suck in as much air as possible and calm his racing heart.

  ‘Goodness,’ he gasped, pulling himself along the bannisters towards Lady Eleny’s room.

  ‘Lady Eleny, it’s me, Freydel, are you up?’ he rasped her formal name and gasped outside her door as he rapped.

  There came a confused mumble from somewhere inside and then a warm orange glow spread under the door. Seconds later the door opened slowly and a dishevelled Lady Eleny stood there, wrapping her robe hastily about her. On seeing Freydel standing there the sleep was swept from her face and replaced with worry.

  ‘What has happened? What have you seen?’ she opened the door wide. ‘Come in, quietly before we frighten everyone,’ she motioned.<
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  He stepped into the room and she shut the door gently.

  ‘Ely,’ he began (she preferred her informal name amongst friends, and Freydel had known her since she was a babe), ‘it’s less about what I saw and more about what I felt. A great surge of magic in the Flow, in my dream. It woke me up,’ he said. ‘And it was not a dream for everything was trembling. Did you feel it?’

  ‘Uh, no, I dreamt the world was rocking though,’ Ely said with a yawn, ‘perhaps that was why. Tremors are quite normal.’

  ‘This was no tremor, the Flow itself was throbbing with magic.’

  ‘What about the orb? What has it shown?’ she sat down on her bed and Freydel took the stool by the dresser. Ely was one of the very few people that knew where the Orb of Death was and who was its current Keeper. Which is why she let Freydel have the single tower beside her castle for his own use and for the added protection the orb could offer.

  ‘I tried to access the orb but it is… busy… I can’t explain it, it has never happened before. It simply won’t let me access it, as if it is busy doing something else,’ perhaps it could sense the other orb? Yes! That could be it. Keteth has had the Orb of Water for a long time… He decided not to speak his thoughts aloud, he needed more time to think on it anyway.

  ‘Is she…’ Ely’s hand went to her throat.

  ‘I don’t know, I can’t see, I can’t scry. I came here to ask you the same.’

  Ely simply shook her head and swallowed.

  ‘The magic was blue, Ely, indigo blue, the colour of the dark moon. And it was everywhere,’ Freydel could still feel the glorious power of it, and the Flow still hummed. ‘I think she is alive, Ely,’ he beamed.

  Ely tried to smile, ‘I wish we could be sure. I have no magical ability with which to sense such things…’

  ‘I should inform Cirosa immediately, she might know more,’ Freydel said.

  Ely scowled, ‘I doubt very much that the High Priestess cares at all whether Issa lives. In fact I should think she’d prefer her dead. If only we had a caring, functional, priesthood here on Celene, or in the whole Maioria for that matter. As you know, I’m suspicious that this was all a set up to destroy Issa!’

  ‘I doubt very much there is any maliciousness to Cirosa, she’s just ambitious and over-worked,’ Freydel said placatingly. Whilst Cirosa was not his most favourite person, she would still be the Oracle one day and it was not worth making enemies with The Order of the Great Goddess. ‘I understand you two have had your… differences… but she will be the Oracle and we must try to keep the peace,’ Freydel tried to soothe the scowling Lady Eleny.

  ‘You always were so forgiving of her. The Order of the Great Goddess… pah! What is that? It certainly is all about law and order. Laws and orders placed upon the people like a chain about the neck. And who is the one that makes up all these laws? That woman sat here on the most sacred isle of the goddess. The Order was supposed to be about the soul and spirit, not the physical control of people,’ Ely spat. ‘I wish Issa had never met the woman.’

  Freydel put his hands up for calm, wanting to return to the more important matter at hand. ‘We are all tired and worried…’ Ely cut him off.

  ‘Do you know what the people think? What they say in the taverns here and across Maioria? What mothers talk to each other about whilst their children are playing? What soldiers on leave tell their families about? What the farmers speak of whilst they till their fields? Well, I’ll tell you what they think, most consider the once sacred rites of the Temple mechanical and soulless. They do not believe that the Great Mother would ever expect Her children to act according to rigid laws and scriptures from yesteryear. They are beginning to believe the goddess has given up on them, left them to their fate at the hands of the Immortal Lord. Their faith is broken, and people without faith are weak indeed!’

  Freydel tried to speak, but the issue had clearly been eating away at Ely for a while, possibly all night, and she carried on with barely a breath.

  ‘Now most do not visit their temples or gather in groups to give thanks to the One Source. You saw it yourself, the Midsummer Celebrations were a third less in number than it was last year and it has been dwindling since Cirosa came here with all her laws! Everyone I spoke to mentioned the lack of recruits into the priestess ranks. Some temples have even been deserted on Frayon. It seems all the common folk think that the Great Mother’s Temple’s has become corrupt and rotten from within. It certainly does not serve the spiritual needs of the people.

  ‘If only I had tried harder to be a High Priestess perhaps I could have stopped this. You know my mother could have taken over after Mielan?’

  Freydel nodded and opened his mouth to speak but Ely didn’t pause.

  ‘She was the preferred choice by far! I could have taken over after her and stopped this rot!’

  ‘You could not have,’ Freydel said loudly to cut through her rant. He spoke quietly when Ely stopped and gulped. ‘Cirosa was already in the highest favour in the Temple of Frayon before she came here.’

  ‘Wormed her way up, conniving and plotting and back stabbing,’ Ely seethed.

  ‘Do not drag up the past, Ely, it will bring only pain. Dargan is gone and what is done is done. If it’s any consolation I think they treated you most poorly, be glad you are out of their grasp now.’ Freydel desperately wanted to get away from this topic, it was nothing to do with him. Only the Wizards’ Circle held his responsibility and the events that were currently unfolding so swiftly were of utmost importance. ‘But please, perhaps a conversation for another time? We must consider Issa’s safety.’

  The anger drained from Ely’s face and she looked down at her hands guiltily. ‘I’m sorry, you are right. I’ve been fraught with worry and suffering nightmares. I just don’t understand how such a terrible task can have been chosen, even if the goddess spoke to Cirosa, which I doubt very much! This whole thing stinks! Why was another task not chosen? Any task. Issa has been through so much and she is barely a woman,’ Ely clenched the hem of her robe and released it.

  ‘I did try,’ Freydel said weakly, ‘I said, “to slay the White Beast is too great a risk,” I tried to think of some other testing that would prove her worth, that would show to everyone the power I know she has inside. As you know, I even mentioned the Storm Holt.’

  Ely sighed and frowned, ‘A wizards’ testing.’

  Freydel sighed as well and held up his hands, ‘It was all I could think of. Cirosa said the same thing and that a wizard’s test could never be used for one guided by the goddess. You know how she feels about magic and wizards, she scoffs at anything she cannot understand or master. She would hear none of it, and who am I to dictate matters of religion to the High Priestess of Celene?’

  Ely scowled but said nothing.

  ‘She is right, Ely. If the prophecy is true then the Raven Queen must be strong enough to stand against all the darkness. Keteth is just one small part of it. Like Cirosa said, if Issa truly is chosen of the Goddess to deliver us from the immortals then surely slaying this monster will be easy for her. The tasks ahead will be but greater still. If she fails here she will surely fail against the Maphraxies.’

  ‘Yes but not now, it’s far too soon!’ Ely hissed, trying to quieten the rising emotion in her voice.

  ‘All the heroes and heroines of history have proved their worth through some great deed,’ Freydel reminded her.

  ‘But the Storm Holt would have been better, you could have helped her far more easily, rather than have us sitting here useless,’ Ely shook her head, ‘Cirosa really has you convinced with her poisonous tongue.’

  ‘But Cirosa pointed out the truth. That Issa, the Feylint Halanoi, and all of Maioria cannot win this war through magic and sorcery. She is right, the Scorching War between wizards is long over and since Baelthrom came the magic left within Maioria is a far cry from what it once was. Besides, the Storm Holt tests only the self against the self, it does not fulfil prophecies or prove the goddess’s chosen one. Sh
e even said she hoped Issa would refuse this task, for her own safety.’

  Ely snorted, ‘Cirosa doesn’t care about anything or anyone apart from her own ambitions. I would not ever trust that woman.’ Ely’s shoulders slumped then and she rubbed her eyes. ‘None of this matters now anyway. What is done is done. All we can hope for is her return. How indeed will she return? How can we help her now?’

  Freydel relaxed, relieved to have the subject get back to the issue at hand. ‘The Wykiry brought her safely here to Celene in the past. I scryed for her through the orb when she left with the Wykiry and they took her back to the edge of the Shadowlands, as I guessed they might. They will not have left her and I have absolutely no doubt that they will return her safely once more. It is the Wykiry’s self-made responsibility, since their fall from grace, to always know where Keteth is,’ Freydel explained, ‘and to help any victims in his wake.’

  Ely looked hopefully out of the open window. It was still pitch black out there.

  ‘Regardless of our feelings, Cirosa knows all that has happened so far, so she might know something more being in the temple itself, the most sacred place upon the isle. In fact I should go there immediately,’ he said jumping up off the stool. ‘I can be there a little after dawn if I leave now,’ he reached for the door. ‘Please get some rest for now, you look as exhausted as I feel. I shan’t be gone long and the sooner I go the sooner I’ll return.’

  Ely nodded and gave a wan smile as he turned and shut the door.