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

by A. Evermore

  ‘I know,’ Edarna squeaked back, getting ready for the next lurch. The gull cackled in laughter, she scowled at it - though her head was almost level with it. The lurch came again and everything doubled in size once more. Now she looked up at the huge gull and Mr Dubbins was terrified of it.

  ‘Now you know how mice feel,’ she scolded it, though she too was suddenly afraid of the massive gull towering above her. That orange beak looked big and very sharp.

  ‘Right, that’s it. Let’s get on with it.’ She opened her sling for Mr Dubbins to jump into. Soon he was tucked under her left arm and her belongings tucked under her right. She walked towards the tree-trunk sized orange leg of the gull. He eyed them hungrily.

  ‘I have my wand at the ready so don’t even think about it!’ Edarna squeaked up at the gull. It snapped its beak hastily and sat down on the floor. Edarna clambered breathlessly up one extended wing and settled down as low as she could between the gull’s wings. ‘And if you drop us I shall come back to haunt you forever!’ she warned. The gull ruffled its feathers.

  ‘Now we understand each other remember the deal, lots of fish and the best nest on all the islands put together. So let’s go to the Isle of Celene!’

  Chapter 25

  The Sunless Dawn

  HAMEKA awoke when the ship stopped rocking. He dressed swiftly in a plain undershirt, toughened leather breeches and tunic. After second thoughts he pulled the tunic off, he was already sweating and through the portal he could see it was not even dawn yet. He still had to put on a chainmail vest over his shirt. Bloody heavy thing. But it would stop a fatal arrow to the chest. He secured a thin dark grey woollen cloak over his shoulders, despite the heat it would offer protection against the sea spray and rain if there was any.

  Next he belted on his rapier. The sheath was made of a sheet of metal, decorated relatively blandly with a few simple scrolls and whorls. He pulled out the long thin blade, enjoying the low slithering sound it made followed by a ringing that lasted several seconds. The thin shiny blade was orange in the lamp light. The steel was of excellent quality, beautifully tempered and springy. The blade had, of course, been recently sharpened to razor sharpness. The crossguard was the heaviest part of the blade and the most ornate. Intricate looping metal intwined together and curved back to the crossguard, creating a basket type shape for his hand.

  Despite the intricate metalwork, the metal was extremely strong and did not bend when he tried to force it. Neither did the blade buckle, even when his whole weight was against it. Something he discovered when he had run a man through with such force they had fallen together back against a stone wall, the blade never breaking.

  With a twitch of his wrist he flicked the point down and the blade swished in the air. The corner tip of the map upon his desk drifted to the floor without so much as disturbing the rest of the map. The weight of the crossguard made swinging the comparatively light blade incredibly fast.

  Unlike most weapons used by the Maphraxies this sword was not made of dark dwarven black iron from within the Mountains of Maphrax, but was of human forged steel. His rapier was the only thing he admired that humans had made. He liked the idea of using human made weapons to kill humans. Too bad he never really used it much. He slotted it back into its sheath with another slithering ring and picked up his most prized weapon instead.

  His crossbow was not just any crossbow, it was probably the tiniest crossbow ever created. Certainly he had never seen one as small, nor one so deadly. It was no longer than his hand or any wider. Its thick wooden trunk was hollow and inside it contained many darts the length of his finger and slightly thicker than a matchstick.

  Each dart was tipped with deadly Saran poison from Venosia. Just a nick by the dart would paralyse those it hit. The dart itself was impossible to remove (unless you knew how, and only Hameka knew how) for three barbs shot out on impact, embedding themselves into the victim. If left untreated within an hour, and there were few antidotes, the victim’s veins would expand until they burst. Not only was it deadly it was an excruciating way to die. Every cell exploding. The steel bow prod was stretched back tightly and enchanted to ensure deadly accuracy. The metal twine had not broken in ten years and was still as strong and unworn.

  He sat there admiring it for a while. It had been crafted according to his own design, his very own invention and he had not been disappointed with it. He knew how to use many weapons, you did not live for hundreds of years as a battle commander without learning everything you could about weapons. He was excellent with his rapier, it required skill, unlike the heavy brutish axes, maces and flails used by the numbskull Maphraxies. But then with their lumbering size and incredible strength perhaps it made more sense to hack, bludgeon and crush your way through the enemy.

  However, over the years he had found his true skill lay in this tiny crossbow and nowadays, after so long at war, he preferred to fight from a distance. Close combat was boring, easy almost. But the mess the blood made of his clothes, the sweat and stench of the enemies breath in his face, the festering wounds and other annoying sprains that were inevitable… No more. Fighting from a distance was much cleaner and ultimately more fun. His rapier was only for emergencies. Of course he rarely joined in in the fighting now but preferred to direct and observe the carnage.

  He tucked his small most-deadly-of-weapons into his belt and pulled on stiff leather gloves that made his hands sweat immediately. He headed out of his cabin, at once relived to be away from the boring confining room. He made his way through the narrow wooden corridor lined on either side with closed doors that led into other cabins. His shiny black leather boots made an authoritative tap as he walked and the Maphraxies he passed, barely fitting in the confined space, hunkered into the walls with some difficulty in order to let their commander pass.

  As soon as Hameka opened the door to the deck he was greeted with buffeting winds and rain that tried to drive him back in. Gripping the door frame he heaved his thin wiry body out onto deck and whipped his hand away as the door slammed viciously behind him. The deck was swarming with Maphraxies in their heavy black armour, dark dwarves dressed in waterproof oil-skins, and six necromancers bunched together tightly at the prow. Their black robes whipping around them in the gusting wind, their deathly white hands and faces seeming to glow in the gloom.

  Hameka peered over the railing, the sea was relatively calm, still and grey under the thick green-tinged clouds that clambered close around them. Magical wind, but why does there have to be rain as well? Even as he stood looking over the edge the wind began to drop and the rain struck less viciously until it was a soft patter. At least the awful weather brought them here quick, Hameka thought, wringing out the hem of his already sodden cloak.

  The wind became a gentle breeze and he released his death grip upon the wooden beam. He smiled, the necromancers had done their job well. He made his way over to them, the Maphraxies and dark dwarves falling back to let him pass. The six necromancers stood unmoving and looking so alien they might as well have been standing on another world entirely. He barely recognised the white faces as elves and humans anymore, so long and thin did they seem. Their eyes were turned so dark by the Elixir that they were black.

  They were watching the green tinged fog that they had created as it billowed around them. Then twelve white hands reached out in unison, motioning right to left. The fog moved in the same direction and like a long thick gaseous snake it swirled over the side of the boat. Hameka watched it move, coming from the air in front of the necromancers, across the sea and towards a dark expanse of land a mile or so away.

  A dark dwarf shuffled to Hameka’s side, his yellow eyes gleaming in the green dark. ‘The Isle of Celene, Commander,’ he snivelled and chuckled. ‘They will not suspect a thing. The harpies have told us there aren’t even any lights on!’

  Hameka, allowed himself a small smile. ‘Perfect.’ He looked up at the sky, there was the barest amount of growing light and the stars were getting harder to see. It was s
till very dark. ‘Dawn is coming but for Celene the sun will not rise today,’ he said aloud with a tight smile. The sun’s rays would be unable to penetrate the thick magic fog that darkened the land.

  The dark dwarf cackled again and shuffled away. All about him dark dwarves readied themselves for the coming battle, their yellow eyes gleaming excitedly as they ordered about the lumbering Maphraxies. Their ashen skin was slick with sweat and salt water; their long grey beards with the barest tint of red were sodden and lank.

  Despite their small stature, they barely came up to Hameka’s chest, they were vicious fighters. They always had that familiar keen look in their eyes before any attack for they had been promised the usual spoils of war and they were eager for a good choice of women. Likewise the harpies had been offered the men. Neither species cared who had had the spoils before, nor in what state they got them in. They would happily rape a corpse! Foul creatures, both of them!

  He would certainly not wait around to witness their sordid acts and he was long past participating in them himself. It was messy, made you dirty, and was horribly disease prone. It was also boring now. When you could have who and what you wanted whenever you wanted, such types of revenge and sordid domination were no longer desired or needed. He held up the dull Key Stone hanging on his chest and stared into it.

  ‘Dromoorai above,’ Hameka spoke to the eight Dromoorai circling on their Dread Dragons above the ships. He looked up at the black shapes, their eyes were like red fires in the darkness, their amulets flared into a blood-red as they obediently listened. He wondered if they even looked human behind those helmets anymore.

  ‘The one we seek must be taken alive,’ he projected an image of the girl that Baelthrom had shown him into the bloodstone. A slender young woman with long black hair, green eyes and pale skin. It wasn’t the clearest picture. ‘Capture anyone who might fit the description. The rest remains the same,’ he said loudly for those around him to hear as well as the Dromoorai above, ‘take alive all magic wielders, young or old. There may be a wizard with her. Where possible capture the children for Elixir production.’

  The harpy spy had mentioned a wizard at her side. Wizards were highly prized by Baelthrom, they would become necromancers. The more skilled and powerful the wizard, the greater his power after consumption of the Elixir. It was raids like this on towns and villages that gave them the most supply of children for the very best Elixir of Immortality production. Soldiers didn’t tend to take their children to war.

  ‘Stay out of sight until we attack,’ he said into the Key Stone.

  His commands were met with silence from above, as always. Not that it mattered, the Dromoorai were incapable of disobeying. The green fog continued to billow out from the space in front of the necromancers, thicker and wider than before. The swell caused by their magical wind and rain was gone now and the sea was eerily still and flat like a mirror.

  The six Maphraxie ships moved slowly and silently towards the hulking slab of land. The wind dropped to nothing and the slack sails were reeled in. The anchor slid down into the water silently, all noise and splashing concealed by necromancer magic. Unfortunately, without the magical wind, it was a remarkably still and quiet morning. They would have to rely on the thick fog and tread quietly to avoid raising alarm.

  The amulet dangling on Hameka’s chest grew warm and glowed dimly in the green gloom, Baelthrom watched silently from far away, deep inside the mountains of Maphrax, beside the great iron ring. Irritatingly Hameka could sense his master’s eagerness to find the girl. His irritation with her was swiftly turning to hatred. One thing was for sure, he would put on a good show for his master; the goddess worshippers would be punished severely for their defiance against the Immortal Lord.

  She could not possibly escape now, not even in death, he thought licking his thin lips in eagerness. If there was a wizard with her he would be taken for questioning before the Elixir was administered. If she proved to be elusive the wizard would be forced to lead them to her.

  Hameka looked up at the sky. He could no longer see the Dromoorai but knew they would be silently gliding above the island. He smiled. They would strike from the air sending terror through the people as they rained fire upon them and their villages. He used to be nervous before battle, but not now, now he only felt a little excitement. One more victory, one more blow to the enemy.

  Hameka climbed down the rope ladder hanging over the side of the ship and descended into the raft-boat that bobbed gently. Packed close together the raft boats made their way to the shore, the green fog blanketing thickly around them. Hameka knew that anyone outside of the green fog would not be able to see in, but for the Maphraxies within it it was much less dense and easy to see out.

  Each boat was packed full with dark dwarves and Maphraxies and in the centre of each was a giant cage. The snarling slavering sound coming from within told him the death hounds were starving hungry. He peered through the cage on his own boat and two pairs of yellow eyes glimmered hungrily back. They snarled and fidgeted, snapping at each other, keen to be free.

  The death hounds were half again as big as a wolf with thick black matted fur covering their heavily muscled bodies. Their muzzles were stubby but wide, heavy and powerful and lined with inch long fangs. Their tails were thick and a line of bony spines ran down their backs to the tail tip.

  Not quite the cuddly pooch they started out as, Hameka grinned at the thought.

  The boat ground onto the sand and they jumped out into the warm shallow water. The day was brightening slowly. Hameka glimpsed the turret and chimneys of a large red-bricked mansion ahead. According to the map this should be the Castle Elune. The death hounds led the way, picking up the scent of humans, straining against their steel collars and heavy chains held by Maphraxies that struggled to restrain them.

  They moved swiftly through the trees towards the Castle Elune. The wood was empty and silent, as if all the animals and birds had sensed the unearthly immortals approach and fled. Hameka hoped the heavy clank of Maphraxian armour and the growling of the beasts would be muffled by the fog. But the closer they got the less of a worry being discovered became. Their attack was imminent and already deadly for it was far too late for the unsuspecting islanders.

  Luckily for us, the Maphraxies are not creatures of stealth, he thought, glancing sideways at the deformed lumbering chunks of muscle. Numb-skulls…

  They paused where the trees ended. A sweep of landscaped gardens sloped up to their right and flat ground and stables to their left. The horses in the stables detected their approach and smelt the death hounds. They began to whinny and neigh in fear.

  ‘To the stables,’ he growled, ‘kill the horses quickly before they make a racket.’

  Maphraxies and death hounds ran towards the stables. It took two Maphraxies to control each hound now they could smell the fresh meat. They were eager for their first meal.

  As they neared the horses whinnied and screamed louder, the stables that housed them swiftly becoming their prisons. Hameka tapped his foot impatiently; the noise of the animals was really grating. The first death hound released ploughed through the door of a stable, wood splintering and flying in all directions. The other death hounds found their own stables and followed suit. The horses screams swiftly stilled into the sound of snapping bone and tearing flesh. So swiftly!

  Now the screaming had stopped Hameka relaxed a little. Then something large and black darted through the air in front of him. He ducked instinctively, dodging it by an inch. His crossbow was already in his hand as he whirled to see what it was. His eyes rested on a raven, black wings flapping as it landed on a tree branch. It turned to face him and stared back with an unnerving intelligence that made the back of his neck begin to sweat. It opened its shining black beak wide, rolled out its pinky-black tongue and made a loud raucous cawing sound like laughter that echoed through the stables and across the lawns.

  Hameka aimed his crossbow but something cold sunk down his throat as if he were swallowi
ng the green fog that surrounded them. It wrapped its cold tendrils round his heart and he froze in fear. The only warmth in his whole body came from the burning amulet hanging around his neck.

  ‘Kill it!’

  Baelthrom’s command echoed around his brain cutting through the icy tentacles that bound him. With a great effort he fought to lift his arms, arms that were like great stupid stumps of lead, raised the crossbow once more and fired.

  The dart flew too fast to see but it never struck home. The raven jumped from its perch and dropped towards him like a black arrow, sharp and deadly through the fog. Hameka fell backwards, but not quick enough. Gouging claws scraped down his face and a razor sharp beak sliced across his forehead. As quick as it had come the bird turned deftly in mid-air and darted to the stables, out of sight before he could even raise his crossbow.

  ‘Bastard!’ he cursed as blood trickled down his face.

  ‘Find it. Kill it!’ Baelthrom’s command whispered in his mind.

  Hameka tried to follow it but could not see for the stinging blood in his eyes. Swearing profusely he tore off a piece shirt and tied it round his head to stem the flow. It wasn’t deep but it stung like hell and bled plenty too. The pain was nothing compared to the rage the bird had sparked in him.

  Filthy creatures of the goddess, we’ll destroy them all! Maphraxies and dark dwarves had come running to his side.

  ‘If you find that sodding bird kill it! Kill any bird you find, kill them all!’ he snarled, wiping a bloodied hand on his cloak. Blinking through the blood Hameka lunged in the direction it had gone. He stumbled around a corner and came to a stop before two stables stood apart from the others. The door to the first was open, the other closed. He scanned the trees but the raven was nowhere to be seen.