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

by A. Evermore

  Edarna looked at the seer in shock.

  ‘Yes, it was a surprise to everyone, but the sacred pool does not lie.’

  ‘I think I’d better get to Carvon,’ Edarna said, wrapping her now dry shawl tight around her.

  ‘It’s a long way, maybe one hundred miles,’ Naksu said.

  ‘Urgh maybe I can make a potion,’ Edarna said thoughtfully.

  ‘Walking is better for the soul and, by the looks of it, the body as well,’ Naksu said, trying and failing to hide a grin.

  ‘Walking!?’ Edarna screeched. Mr Dubbins looked at them both, startled.

  Naksu chuckled. ‘I think I’d better come with you.’

  Chapter 30

  Sword Master In Training

  UNABLE to find Asaph or Coronos, Issa decided to explore the karalanth village. The day had taken a while to warm up, having been raining most of the night and morning, and the air was fresh and cool. The sun was swiftly clearing the clouds and where sunshine touched the ground it was quite warm so Issa walked where it fell. The smell of the wet forest was rich in the air and the pools of rain water were evaporating quickly, creating clouds of steam above them.

  Though Triest’anth had said they were a mostly nomadic people, the village had clearly been here some time given the well worn dusty track between the houses. Perhaps they came here in summer or perhaps they moved on when attacked, whether by humans or anything else.

  All the houses were small and round with conical thatched roofs but some had no walls and were open with a roof supported by thick wooden beams. In these were tools or baskets of food and clay ovens and within each of them the karalanths worked, young and old, male and female. All had a task to do, whether it was cutting cloth, smoothing wood or preparing food.

  Some noticed her passing and smiled at her, inclining their antlered heads in a welcoming gesture. She smiled and waved nervously back. How majestic and graceful these people looked, she thought wistfully. Nothing was ever really going to make her fit in, not unless she sprouted antlers and four legs. Two karalanth children, a boy and girl, hurtled around the corner screaming and laughing as they chased each other. They narrowly missed her, changing direction so deftly she stood there startled.

  ‘I wish I could run that fast,’ she laughed, watching them go.

  Outwardly the people seemed happy and content but Coronos had told her of their tortured past at the hands of the dark dwarves, Triest’anth embellished the finer details, and their destruction by all the dwarves both dark and light. She learned of their exile to the great forests of Frayon where they lived now, hoping one day to return to their homeland. The dark dwarves had for too long gone unpunished for their crimes, crimes they continued to commit against all the peoples of Maioria.

  She wandered further, hoping her sombre thoughts would dissipate in the sun. If they were able to be happy and content then so would she be whilst amongst them. Vengeance lay in the future, not now. She had lived a life of ease and peace up until recently, all her worries back then on Little Kammy seemed tiny compared to her life now, all she had suffered and the things she had come to know.

  She came to the far eastern edge of the village where the last open hut stood. An anvil stood before the forge, proclaiming it as the smithy. Issa was kind of surprised, for some reason she hadn’t expected a smithy here, but these are a warrior people after all.

  The man working hard inside was huge, his thick muscles bulging on his arms as he hammered upon a glowing metal shard, red sparks flying up around him. He had black fur and long black curly hair tied back with cord. He looked to be in his mid to late forties, as far as human years went. The walls were lined with blades and arrow heads, some new and some in need of mending. There was a big pile of weapons on one side of the hut too. Issa looked for horseshoe type things and armour but there were none.

  A weapon’s smith, and I guess they really don’t need horses or wear any armour.

  He was deeply engrossed in his work and she found herself hypnotised as he worked the metal, the hammer clanging down loudly on the red shard. He straightened his broad back and stretched, noticing her for the first time. He smiled and beckoned her closer.

  ‘Welcome, there has been much talk in the village about all these strange visitors,’ his voice was rich and deep and carried a certain sense of humour in it. ‘We go for years without seeing a human, and when we do it’s never a friendly one, then three unusual friendly ones turn up at once.’ He shoved the red-hot blade into a trough of water where it bubbled and hissed noisily. He wiped his blackened hands on his apron and engulfed her hand in a surprisingly gentle shake. He stood at least two feet taller than she, and that was without antlers.

  ‘You seem to be making a lot of weapons,’ she said looking at the piles of finished and unfinished blades and a growing mountain of arrowheads. His smile faded into a frown as he looked at them.

  ‘We are preparing ourselves... There is change upon the winds. The dark moon has risen and now three human strangers have sought our help,’ he said.

  Issa looked up into his dark brown eyes but said nothing. Change should be coming, but how will it come? What is it I am supposed to do? I know I am supposed to do something… She dropped her gaze and went over to the blades hanging on the wall and felt their smooth surface. One was darker than the rest, almost black, darker than any metal she had seen. She touched it lightly and her skin crawled. A great roaring fire filled her mind and unbearable heat scorched her face. She closed her eyes and behind her lids saw red eyes within a black three-pointed helmet glaring back at her. She dropped her hand and the vision was gone.

  ‘Dark dwarven metal mined from the hellish bowels of the Maphraxian Mountains. It was taken in an encounter with a Maphraxie,’ the smith spat on the ground in disgust, as if saying the name were a curse.

  ‘Do you know how to use these as well as make them?’ she asked touching another gingerly, but it was only cold grey metal.

  ‘Of course, all karalanths learn how to use blade and bow pretty much as soon as they can walk. Which for us is mostly straight after birth,’ he jested, a sparkle in his eyes. She snorted but smiled all the same.

  ‘Can you teach me?’ she asked hopefully.

  He straightened in surprise; clearly he had not been expecting that question. She surprised herself as well. Asaph had a sword, he could surely teach her. But then she was too shy around him to ask, and it would just be too embarrassing. After a moment he sighed and eyed her up and down before taking a small slender blade from the wall.

  ‘Hmm, I used to be a teacher some years ago now, and only to children,’ he said and folded his arms thoughtfully. ‘Maybe I could teach you a thing or two, and perhaps I could do with the practice myself. Hmm. I can teach you what I know, though you’ll need to get stronger and fitter than you are now. But that will come with time and practice.’

  ‘Teach me everything,’ she said, ‘I must learn how to fight’.

  ‘Are you really sure? I can teach you a little every day but you must be disciplined enough to practice on your own and there will be no substitute for real experience. I can but prepare you and no more.’

  ‘Anything is better than nothing.’

  He nodded in agreement, ‘But the first thing you must know though, is who I am,’ he grinned.

  She flushed and mumbled, ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I am Grast’anth and they are calling you the Raven Queen,’ he looked around at the treetops, as if looking for ravens. Where was the raven anyway? ‘though I’m not sure I believe in any of that prophecy stuff. Regardless of all that, we are who we are and all we have is this moment now… I am sure you have another, more fitting, name?’ he asked, deftly spinning the blade in his hand making it flash in the sunlight.

  She shifted her feet and smiled at his wisdom, it reminded her a little of Edarna and her quirky sayings. All we have is this moment now, the past and future mattered not.

  ‘Issa,’ she said but the name sounded strange, as if it
belonged to someone else now. It made her uncertain. ‘I am Issalena Kammy,’ she said it firmly, as if to convince herself.

  ‘Greetings, Issa,’ he lifted her hand ceremoniously to his lips and grinned at her with sparkling eyes. He turned back to his weapons. ‘We karalanths prefer the shorter blade; longer ones hinder us when we run,’ he explained.

  She looked at the blade he passed to her and was surprised at its lightness, the simple wooden haft fitted snugly in her hand. She tested its weight with a few amateur swings and thoughts of glory on the battlefield flashed in her mind, her blade glinting in the light as no foe could match her skill. At first seeming light, the blade quickly felt heavy, much to her dismay. Must get fitter and stronger.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured, seeing the disappointment on her face. ‘It will feel foreign to you at first, it always does. Hmm, you are much older than any I have ever taught,’ he added doubtfully, scrubbing his chin.

  ‘I can still learn,’ she snapped. ‘I have to try, I’ll need to use some type of weapon and these are as good as any,’ she waved the sword around and Grast’anth took a step back with a laugh.

  ‘Easy now, don’t kill the teacher!’

  Issa made smaller circles in the air with the end of the blade, testing her wrist against its weight. It would definitely ache after a while, she conceded glumly.

  ‘Well, there’s no need to be down about it, you haven’t even started yet!’ he said crossing his arms over his chest, ‘You will get stronger if you practice and practice hard. Remember no matter how fit and strong you are you can always be more so,’ he said taking a larger blade from the wall.

  Issa doubted this. ‘Just fit enough is good,’ she shrugged. ‘Shouldn’t you have the same size?’ she asked fearfully, it could only be fair.

  ‘I’m only going to show you a few things. Besides, the length of the blade matters not,’ he said and stepped out of the hut. Doubtful she followed him tentatively to the sandy area in front of the smithy.

  ‘The first lesson, in all of life in fact, is this. The key to survival is awareness. The more aware you are the more you are ready to predict an attack and respond accordingly. You must never let your guard down,’ he walked around in a circle, fingering the blade thoughtfully, recalling his own teachings.

  He stopped and looked at her side on, his short tail flicking left and right, ‘Stop and listen. Look around you. What can you see, hear, smell. If you can sense magic, how strong is it? From where does it flow? And where to? Who is using it? Awareness, and not just awareness of the things outside of you, awareness of the things inside. What are you thinking? What do you want? What are you choosing? What are you feeling? What are your weaknesses? You must know and understand yourself fully otherwise the enemy will find and exploit your weaknesses. Focus on increasing your awareness of yourself and everything around you. Try it now. Still the mind and expand your awareness.’

  That sounded tiresomely like what Freydel had taught her. Still the mind… She shifted warily, knowing full well how far her awareness could expand. Maybe if she just tried to localise that awareness on the current world around her she would not drift too far. Hugging her arms she closed her eyes and focused on her inner self. What is it I desire most now?

  To learn the sword, that is what I desire.

  She held the blade in her right hand, felt its cold hard weight - just a piece of metal, waiting expectantly to be used. The earth was soft and sandy beneath her bare feet and warm from the sun. She could feel Grast’anth’s presence like a warm glow beside her, she could even feel the birds flittering in the trees around them. She stilled her mind further and felt the trees, green and steadfast, their roots happily moist after the rain. Further still and she could feel the living force of Maioria herself beneath her feet.

  ‘With your increased awareness, seek to understand the land around you in light of the battle before you,’ he said, softly.

  She opened her eyes and analysed the terrain feeling it with her feet and mind. The ground was flat, the village was behind her and she stood in a wide-open space, a good place to fight. A gentle breeze, carrying the scent of wild apple, eased the heat of the sun and she could tell from its angle that it was now mid afternoon. She would have to be careful not to be blinded by it. She shifted her body around until the sun was on the back of her head and Grast’anth was to her left.

  ‘Try to understand your enemy, look for weaknesses whether physical or mental but be careful, for the opponent that looks fearful may only be feigning,’ he said, beginning to circle around her as he spoke.

  She focused Grast’anth, trying to detect any sense of emotion. He was unreadable to her, just a solid object of muscle, a formidable opponent even for a Maphraxie. He was big and long and that could also be a disadvantage, his back and flanks would be his most vulnerable, if one could avoid those slashing hooves. Those antlers were a worry too; one could be impaled upon them. Caution was clearly necessary with this unknown opponent. She would have to be quick and clever.

  ‘Practice is the key. If you are to even survive a fight with a sword, you must practice. Surviving is first, winning is second. You must remember this,’ he continued his circumambulation. ‘Always have your weapon ready, how can you parry a blow when your sword is stuck in its scabbard? You must know when the fight is on and you must have your sword drawn ready for it takes less time to be killed than it does to draw your weapon.’

  He stopped and held up his sword, it shone in the sunlight. ‘This is a weapon, it is designed to kill. Mercy and honour and chivalry are wonderful words for bards and poets but when it is kill or be killed, this,’ he shook his sword, ‘is what will determine whether we speak again. The aim of the fight is survival, not winning, and because of this all is fair in battle. Be crafty, use whatever tricks you can from within yourself or the environment around you,’ he gestured to the sandy ground with a sooty hand, ‘an old trick but throwing that in your opponents eyes could save your life.’

  He continued walking and talking and she listened intently, her mind a sponge soaking up his words. Ma would never believe I’d be a swordsmaster!

  ‘Never ever let your guard slip, and never ever lose your confidence. The fight to the death will be exhausting but you cannot afford to let your concentration slip, your muscles fail, or your will to survive diminish. If you do then the fight is over, you have lost. That is why you must be as fit as you can be, lest your muscles or your lungs fail you, and you must focus your concentration until the end. This is why practice is important, it will make you fit and focused. Some say all battles are a battle of wills, if one’s will to survive becomes less than the other then the end is decided.’

  He stopped and faced her, ‘Never rush into a fight but calmly and controllably engage the enemy, lest you impale yourself on his sword. Through calm will your best defences and keenest reactions be at hand. Confidence comes with practice. You’ll encounter enemies that will insult you verbally, don’t be tempted to insult back. You can insult your enemy but saving your breath will save you energy. Try to see yourself through the eyes of the enemy, does he think you are weak? Scared? Use that against him. If you can combine defence and attack, when you dodge or parry a blow use that momentum and turn the energy into an attack. Oh, and always know the length of your sword. It’s no good chopping at air and it will only tire you out.

  ‘From the looks of you, you will always be fighting somebody bigger and stronger. Therefore you must make sure you have speed and cunning on your side. For a human I would recommend steel armour but, because of your size and the bigger size of your opponent, you would do better to wear much lighter armour for speed and agility, rather than chance survival in plate under a Maphraxie’s crushing axe. At all costs avoid being hit by the enemy, they will crush you.

  ‘That leads on to another thing, if you can dodge a blow then do so and don’t parry it. Parrying will only damage or break your weapon and tire you, or worse it can break your arm. Remember the big
ger opponent also has weaknesses, less speed, heavy armour, bigger targets and therefore bigger vulnerabilities. It is a sad truth but the warrior that shows no mercy will be the one still standing at the end of the battle; the Maphraxies show no mercy so why should you?’

  ‘How can anyone have mercy for those monsters,’ she growled. Grast’anth looked at her sombrely and then nodded slightly.

  ‘There can be no mercy, not whilst they hold a weapon,’ Grast’anth added. ‘Study your enemy as much as you can, know them inside out. What are they wearing? How are they standing? And most importantly, what move will they make next? If you can second-guess his move then you can chance a killing blow. Now show me your stance,’ he said.

  Chapter 31

  Swordswoman

  NERVOUSLY she stepped her feet apart. How the hell are you supposed to stand? She tried to think back to the duelling knights at the Midsummer Celebrations on Celene but she still had no clue. She felt her cheeks growing hot, feeling quite ridiculous. Maybe I should go for a simpler weapon like a club or something. No, I have to learn the sword. Asaph can use a sword, why can’t I?

  She angled her body slightly to the side, left foot behind the right and her right sword arm extended, tip pointing towards Grast’anth’s muscular belly. She licked her lips, suddenly it was very hot and her heart was making a racket in her chest.

  Grast’anth moved forwards, really quite slowly, and without knowing how it happened he had grasped her wrist, pulled, and sent her sprawling to the floor at his feet holding her sword arm uselessly above her head.

  ‘Yah!’ she puffed for breath, confounded. Great start, she thought indignantly. Grast’anth helped her up laughing as she brushed herself down.

  ‘I didn’t do that to mock you but to make you aware of balance; balance is somewhat easier for a karalanth,’ he said and stomped his four feet.