by A. Evermore
The hint of uncertainty was odd in the Maphraxie’s voice for they were not given to fear. So, the goddess’s temple had not just unnerved him, Hameka thought.
‘Of course!’ Hameka snapped. ‘You think we came all this way just for fun? The goddess’s power is old and weak,’ he said in reprisal. The Maphraxies actually looked indignant despite their dim wits. They were getting soft, he thought, they had been too long away from the bigger battles. He would send them straight to the front line after this and starve them too, it always made them fight harder.
The deformed lipped Maphraxie looked at the other two and then hastily descended into the darkness, heavy black-iron mace swinging loosely in front of him at the ready. Hameka went next, the red glow of the Key Stone lighting the way, and the other two followed behind.
Hameka walked for what seemed like hours through the dark tunnel, hating every step into the lair of the goddess. Twice the Maphraxie in front stumbled and Hameka crashed into its armoured back.
‘Curse it! What now?’ he growled.
‘Not enough light,’ it mumbled back.
‘Let me go in front,’ he shoved past into the blackness, hand groping on the cold slick wall for balance.
But even the glow from the amulet seemed dull and weak down here, as if Baelthrom himself had been shut out. It was his turn to stumble in the dark. Hameka began to feel quite alone, despite the immortal presence of the Maphraxies behind him. His mind started to play tricks as he walked and the ground seemed to squirm beneath his feet, as if trying to flee or shake him off it. Things brushed past his face but his wafting hand never hit anything. His breath rattled in his throat and more than once he heard noises before him.
‘Who’s there?’ he stopped abruptly and barked. The Maphraxies clambered noisily into each other.
Only silence replied. There was nothing there. He tore the bandage off his head in irritation. The bleeding had stopped though the deep welts from the raven’s claws and beak burned, probably with an infection.
The cavern suddenly rumbled and then shook violently, flinging him and the Maphraxies against the wall. The tremor was brief. Stillness settled. He steadied himself and wiped the sweat from his forehead, sucking in the cold air, willing his racing heart to slow.
The amulet was still dull, meaning it was not Baelthrom’s magic that made it shudder now. The thought of being crushed or buried alive down here filled him with terror. The tunnel shook again and with it came the deafening noise of cracking rock.
Hameka lurched forward into the darkness, half running half falling, not caring if he couldn’t see ahead. His hand trailed on the cold damp wall and he did his best to keep his balance. Finally he saw a soft light in the distance, too yellow and dim to be daylight, but relief washed over him nonetheless. He slowed as he neared the light.
‘Stay back in the darkness,’ he ordered the Maphraxies, ‘the mortals can smell your stench a mile off,’ and I can’t stand the smell of you much either! They shifted nervously behind him, stooped and bent, too big to stand easily within the narrow tunnel.
On silent feet Hameka crept towards the light, his crossbow at the ready. Half drawn curtains separated the dark tunnel from the light room beyond them. He peered cautiously through the gap, his eyes took a few moments to adjust to the light. The flickering light came from candles dotted around the circular room that was about twenty feet wide and eight feet high and seemed to be hewn straight out of the rock rather than built with bricks.
He couldn’t quite see all the room through the gap but there was a human shaped shadow on the wall on the far side. It moved and he heard a female voice murmur something. He licked his lips in anticipation, it could be her, and if she was not here then she was not on the island.
It had to be her.
He stepped forward. His foot scraped on a fallen rock. With a strangled cry the person in the room jumped up and fled towards another doorway. He lunged into the room, aimed and fired his crossbow before the figure could disappear through the other curtains. He was deadly accurate, decades of experience with his crossbow had made him so, but with poisoned darts it didn’t matter where you hit on the body, each hit would be a kill. He had actually had to learn where not to hit to ensure he didn’t kill outright.
He cursed again as the fair-haired woman cried out and crumpled to the floor. Not dark-haired and tall, like she should have been. Sighing, he walked over to her, kicking the brightly coloured cushions out of his way.
‘Search the place!’ he barked to the Maphraxies outside.
They shuffled awkwardly into the room. Hameka stood over the woman, the dart protruded from her shoulder. Blood darkened her white robes and the poison was already stiffening her limbs in paralysis. He expected her to leave her body quickly, but was surprised when she didn’t.
‘The High Priestess of Celene,’ Baelthrom whispered as the amulet grew brighter. But his voice seemed much further away than before and the amulet glowed weakly. ‘Keep her alive, she knows much that is of use to us.’
The High Priestess at his feet was slowly dying. Perhaps the poison stopped her snapping her own life-cord. That was a good thing to know. Instead she stared up at him in terror; only her blue eyes and mouth able to move as she lay stricken on the floor, her breath coming in gasps. He smiled at her and brushed a few pale-golden strands of hair away from her pretty face, but it was a smile that lacked warmth.
‘Where is the dark-haired girl?’ he asked for a third time that day. The priestess’s eyes flared in hatred but she looked away. Her hatred was not for him.
‘Your temple has been destroyed; your priestesses given to the pleasures of the dark dwarves; your priests given to the pleasures of the harpies. The whole island burns in the fires of Dread Dragons. And this is how your goddess protects you?’ he sneered and then laughed. ‘We want that woman you call the Raven Queen and you will tell us where she is,’ he gripped behind her head and held her face close to the amulet.
The priestess’s eyes were forced from his down to that blood-red light. She did not shake and judder like the others had, perhaps the poison prevented her, or perhaps she was simply too afraid to fight. He watched her eyes darken from blue to grey and then all black. They shone like onyx jewels as Baelthrom’s mind locked into hers. Sweat beaded on her brow and tears trickled down her white cheeks. Then her face contorted in pain. After a few seconds more her eyes clamped shut and she slumped, unconscious.
That was quick, Hameka thought.
‘She knows the girl, had something to do with that wizard who has the orb and the plan to destroy Keteth. She is the one who received a Shadow Stone. This one will be our ally, you will see to it,’ Baelthrom commanded.
‘Yes, my Lord,’ Hameka replied, wondering what it was he had seen. Perhaps finding this High Priestess would placate his Lord a little in their failure to find the dark-haired one. He took a tiny vial of clear green liquid from his pocket. Bending over the now lifeless priestess he opened her mouth and let a single drop of the green liquid fall between her lips. One drop, one more hour, it was the antidote but not the whole antidote. He wanted her placated. They needed the extra time to get back to the ship where he would administer the rest.
The Maphraxies returned. ‘There is nothing, Commander, only a few empty rooms and a collapsed tunnel that may have been a way out,’ one said, his thick voice struggling with the articulation. Hameka nodded.
‘Carry this one. She will not give you any trouble.’
They picked up the priestess as easily as a child and slung her over one of the Maphraxie’s massive back. As they left the Mother’s Chamber Hameka snuffed out the candles and darkness fell upon the room as never it had before. Since the temple had been created a thousand years ago candles had always lit the room, never allowed to go out. Now his amulet, the blood-stone of Baelthrom, was the only light within the Mother’s Chamber.
They hastened back the way they had come, Hameka leading the way once more and feeling much better in the dark tunnel than
he had on the way down. He considered what his next tasks were. He would administer the antidote when they were back on the ship and then the questions would begin.
They emerged from the tunnel and into the Temple. Once outside the grey skies were showing a hint of blue and sunshine shone down, glinting upon the blood soaked ground and splattered temple that now stood torn asunder with a giant crack from ground to spire. Hameka laughed aloud. Maphraxies and dark dwarves looked at him questioningly. Despite not finding the sodding girl, today was a great victory.
‘Victory is ours,’ he shouted and grinned. The dark dwarves and Maphraxies bellowed their cheers and raised their weapons over their heads. ‘Today we deliver a harsh message to the Feylint Halanoi, the harshest yet! Even their sacred Isle of the Goddess has fallen to us. They may well fight us or die but if they do not join us they will die!’
Hidden deep amongst the branches of an old yew tree beside the temple the raven watched the Maphraxies. He saw a gull flying strangely and dangerously low above them. It carried something small and dark on its back and he felt the subtlest magic about it.
The tall thin grey-haired man commanding the Maphraxies saw the bird and aimed his tiny death-bringing weapon. The raven cawed loudly, drawing the man’s attention away from the gull and allowing it to escape. The man stared in the raven’s direction and he hid deeper in the yew tree’s thick foliage as the gull swiftly left.
The Maphraxies began to leave the temple. The raven looked upon the bloodied and bound prisoners that the Maphraxies took with them. Hopping cautiously from tree to tree he followed them silently and unseen as they made their way to the coast and watched them as they boarded their black ships. He watched and waited until the last of the Maphraxian warships left the Sacred Isle of the Goddess, now a smouldering lifeless ruin.
Movement came from behind. The raven turned and saw the black horse, his master’s horse, emerge from the trees and stop. Their eyes met. With a loud caw, the raven left its perch and headed west across Celene and out into the vast expanse of the Lost Sea.
Chapter 29
Wizards, Witches And Seers
THERE was a chance he could have made it back from where he had come, even without his staff. No being can stay for long in the astral planes with a physical body. That was why people only travelled through them when they slept. Their minds and souls detached, or extended, from their bodies. Trapped for too long in the astral planes, the body itself dematerialises and can never again return to the physical planes at all.
Freydel was a Master Wizard and he knew deeply the peril he was in. As his mind recovered from its link to Baelthrom’s he focused with all his will on returning to the place where he had created his portal of projection. Like moving back through a tunnel he could see the earth, fire, water, and air symbols in the distance.
He almost made it.
Black fire flared from the symbols and all around him, immediately destroying his magical portal. He cried out, reached towards the black tongues of flame. His hand burned as he drew close. He could see his room, his study atop the tower beside the Castle Elune, materialise a little before him. The fire spread all around and within, shattering the windows, setting the curtains alight.
He could not get closer without burning. Instead he watched in horror as his books and scrolls and maps, his magical works and instruments, his vast collection of the prophecies, all burst into flame. The dry old parchment no match against fire that could melt rock. The helpless horror that filled his being turned his soul cold.
A lifetime of work… gone! Another bout of flame came from above and he saw the beast from which the fire came. The Dread Dragons have come. Celene is doomed.
Freydel watched in suspended terror. He did not know how to return to the physical world now that his portal was destroyed. Fear struck him. Baelthrom would hunt him down in the astral planes, he would never give up searching for the orb. His might here was strong, his eyes ever watching.
I am trapped.
He must protect the orb, with his very life. The orb was a physical thing of great power. It belonged to the physical world and Freydel, in his wisdom, knew it would seek a way to return there. It must never leave his side. Freydel drew his energy close around him. He would hide, however one could hide in the astral planes.
Not far away from Freydel, flying under moody grey rain clouds, Edarna watched the black smoke rising on the horizon, curling up above the rich green sliver of land that was Celene. Her heart sank. She was too late, but even if she had got there in time what could she have done? Baelthrom and his Maphraxies attacking the sacred Isle of the Goddess so far from the frontline was just unheard of. No one would have believed her had she warned them. As they neared she could see the black ships surrounding the island.
‘Fly over the island but not too low!’ she shouted over the wind. It came out a squeal.
The gull willingly flew higher over the island. But even from this height the sight of those huge black dragons made Edarna’s heart shiver. She froze as the dragon fear washed over her. Felt the gull tremble beneath her. Mr Dubbins meowed, twitched, and hid his head.
From the Castle Elune in the west to the Temple of Celene on the east there was nothing but smoke and fire and ruin. The harbour on the northern shore was still aflame. No boats were sailing away, no one fled, no one made it out. They didn’t know what hit them.
‘Goddess bless their souls,’ Edarna breathed, the tears clouding her eyes.
There was a concentrated pocket of activity occurring around the blackened and destroyed temple.
‘Circle lower if you dare, the Dread Dragons are busy,’ busy eating the dead! Edarna’s stomach churned, ‘if we can get closer I might be able to spy on them.’
The gull hesitated and then slowly dropped lower. Edarna reached into her pocket and pulled out her monocle. She normally used it to read her scrawled writing in her spell book but it had other uses. In a witch’s hand, with a witch’s spell upon it, she doubled how far it could normally see. She put it to her eye and glared down at the ground. The monocle took a while to focus.
‘They have prisoners,’ she rasped in horror. Her eye came to rest on the priestess clad in white slung over a huge ugly Maphraxie. ‘Ugh I hate those beasts!’ Though she could make out no specific details, white robes were always worn by High Priestesses. If she could get closer she would be able to tell blonde hair or a gold sash worn only by the High Priestess of Celene. It would make sense for them to capture one with such high standing.
‘Go lower,’ she said.
The gull snapped his beak reluctantly but inched lower anyway.
The Maphraxie lugging the priestess around dumped her on the ground. Edarna recognised the gold sash and the blonde hair of the High Priestess of Celene just when a tall thin gaunt looking man snapped his head up to stare at her. Edarna squealed and dropped her monocle, luckily it was attached to a chain and it dangled wildly in the air.
‘Up!’ she screamed as the man raised his hand. A raven cawed. Something glinted but she couldn’t see what.
‘Turn!’ she screamed at the gull, her voice a tiny high-pitched noise. The gull needed no telling. It flipped left than right nearly flinging Edarna off its back. Something small and shiny whipped past, taking a feather or two off the gulls neck.
Gulls could fly fast but Edarna could not. When the gull took a right angle to go vertically up she could no longer calm her heaving stomach and vomited. Luckily she was sick over the side, missing herself and the gull’s nice white feathers. Hanging on for dear life Edarna atop the gull sped away from the Temple northwards.
She took a deep breath when they finally had left the island and now flew over a calm ocean, a darker grey under the heavy clouds that threatened rain. Clinging to the gull’s feathers in one hand she swigged from her water canister with the other. She dared not look behind her, terrified in case she looked into the horrendous face of a Dread Dragon.
Only when the lush green coast of the ma
inland came into view did her pounding heart begin to slow and she chanced a look behind. The skies were empty, no Dread Dragon could be bothered to follow one scraggly gull.
‘Hah,’ she squeaked, but the relief she felt was weak and short lived. Celene and her people had been destroyed. Now just another land lost to the Maphraxies, and the most sacred land at that. ‘I know, Mr Dubbins,’ she reached inside his sling and stroked him. He refused to look up or even meow and kept his head buried.
‘We should go to the Oracle, straight to the Temple of Frayon in Carvon,’ Edarna spoke her thoughts aloud. ‘They must know that Celene has fallen and the High Priestess captured. But it will be an arduous journey, Mr Dubbins, for my shrinking spell will not last that long.’
‘Hey bird,’ she squeaked to the gull, he turned his head and narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Head to Carvon, you know the city with lots of buildings and people. Plenty of garbage there for you to eat too!’
He seemed to understand her, you could never tell with gulls. You couldn’t trust them to stick to the plan either but the mention of garbage no doubt piqued its interest. They would not make it before her spell wore off but the gull didn’t need to know that. They just needed to get as close as possible.
The wind was still and though no breeze sped them on they travelled swiftly. Edarna looked down at the light green forests of sub-tropical palm trees within which were nestled several villages and towns speeding past below them. Normally, when it was calm like this, she loved flying but all she could feel in her heart was sorrow.
As they travelled further north and inland the clouds became less heavy and threatening. Though she still could not see the sun she reckoned she had another good hour of flying left before the potion began to wear off.
Soon the sub-tropical palms became speckled with deciduous ones, their round, small but dense foliages a stark contrast to the tall trunks and large leaves of palms. Here and there the sun was finally breaking through the clouds and it glistened like diamonds on the water of a lake they were flying above.