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

by A. Evermore

  ‘All must dance at the feast of Ax’anth!’ they said and the crowd roared with laughter.

  ‘But I don’t have four legs!’ Issa protested but it only made everyone laugh hysterically.

  ‘Even funny two-feet!’ they replied and she was dumped into the foray of dancing rearing karalanths. She tried to see Asaph but he was lost in the swirling mass of the taller karalanths.

  The same man who had grabbed her danced with her, if you could call it dancing. It seemed more like spinning and stamping to the drum beats. He had a short fair beard and a warm smile and there were distinctive dappled white spots on his fur. The drums were played by seated karalanths around the dancing ring and the small delicate harp type instruments were played further back, protected from the rearing dancers. The music was a bizarre symphony of heavy drums and beautiful tinkling sounds that after a while Issa began to really enjoy.

  Dancing was actually good fun and in the end she laughed so much she thought her sides would burst. When the song changed, or the thumping drums changed their beat, everyone swapped partners. The karalanth she danced with winked at her and as she turned away slapped her on the bum. With a shocked squeak she fell into Asaph. He only laughed though the surprised expression on his face said something about his own encounter.

  ‘Ugh maybe we shouldn’t have had that cake,’ she said dizzily leaning into him.

  ‘You and me both!’ he nodded, ‘let’s find somewhere to rest.’

  They cleverly spun to the edge of the ring and slipped out of the firelight.

  ‘Phew!’ Issa sighed as they sunk in unison onto the cushions. They had found a fire further away than the rest and it was blessedly empty. She lay back on the cushion and stretched.

  ‘Alone at last,’ he said, laying perched up on an elbow beside her.

  She looked up at him. He was looking at her oddly, his deep blue eyes were captivating and her pulse quickened. No one had really looked at her like that before, not even Tarry, and she was suddenly nervous with no idea what to do.

  Everything moved in slow motion as he bent his head towards her, his warm lips touched hers and it seemed fire ignited there. A knot of butterflies fluttered tightly in her stomach. She opened her lips and he kissed her harder. The knot in her belly burst into passion that flooded through her veins to her lips and throughout her whole body.

  Her mind swam and she found herself looking into the Flow. It was alive with swirling orange and red waves or flames, like firelight. It mingled with an endless stream of indigo blue flowing like the ocean. It came as a shock when she opened her eyes for right now she could see the Flow the same with her eyes open, flowing all around and through Asaph and her own body. Her head swam and she could do nothing but return the passion. It would be up to him to release her. When he finally did it took some time to regain her senses and the Flow to calm.

  She blinked in shock, she had been easily and completely disarmed, stripped naked and quivering with a desire she had never known before. Slowly her breathing calmed and her senses returned. He was still looking at her, a soft sheen of perspiration on his flushed face. There was both fear and raw longing etched in his eyes and something bordering on guilt.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said seeing the shock on her face ‘It’s just you look so beautiful lying there and I...’

  She didn’t know what to say, she wanted more but thought she should not, ‘Uh, it’s all right, I drank too much wine, uh, maybe I should go and sleep it off?’ her voice was shaking, part from fear and part from the desire that still sung in her stomach. Damn it, I want another kiss, she thought but shoved the voice away. Right now she felt more afraid of herself and her emotions than she had of Keteth.

  ‘Or maybe we should have more wine,’ Asaph said, seemingly equally disarmed.

  She giggled and he grinned back down at her. Having lost their mugs a while ago they set about searching for clean new ones but only one was left upon a wooden table accompanied by a large ceramic carafe of wine. They poured a full glass and giggled when it sloshed over the side.

  Issa and Asaph sat close to each other, arms over each other’s shoulders as they talked about the feast and the karalanths and watched the dancing. Over the next hour the feast began to thin as people made their way back to their homes or suspiciously into the forest. By the time they had finished their final mug it was very late and their was no sign of Coronos or Triest’anth. Only the drunkest karalanths were still up joking amongst themselves. The dancing had stopped but a woman and man played a softer tune on their harps by the much reduced bonfire.

  ‘Let’s help each other to bed,’ Asaph said, lugging himself up and swaying a little. Issa giggled but when he pulled her up the whole world rocked. She squealed when he heaved her into his arms. All the karalanths turned to look at them and grinned. One made a rude joke from the sounds of it, which she was glad she didn’t quite catch.

  ‘I can walk you know,’ she slurred, ‘sort of.’

  ‘I’m sure you can. But I can’t, I need your weight to balance me,’ he replied, equally slurry as he staggered all the way back to Triest’anth’s house, which was blessedly and surprisingly empty.

  ‘Poor Triest’anth’, she said, ‘he must long to have his house to himself by now.’ Asaph grunted in agreement as he set her down beside her bed. Someone had thought ahead and left large pitchers of water by the hearth ready for the morning headache.

  She sat down on her bed pallet and he on his opposite. Would there be another kiss, she wondered, but stifled a yawn. He stooped over and kissed her on the cheek and sat back down again. Yes, that was best, she smiled back at him.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said and drew the curtain around her bed.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he replied, laying down.

  She didn’t think she would sleep for a long while as she wondered whether to creep into his bed. But it couldn’t have been more than minute and she was fast asleep and if there were dreams she did not remember them.

  Chapter 37

  Knights Of The Shining Star

  MARAKON awoke to find a crown in his hand, a simple golden band, inlaid with a small shining white crystal. This he placed upon his head as he knelt upon a rich red carpet spread upon a wooden stage. A beautiful lady with long straw-coloured hair stood before him, she also had a golden circlet upon her head and he loved her deeply.

  ‘Today is a great day,’ the woman’s voice was rich and warm and carried well like a singer’s voice. ‘Today we celebrate a great victory. The Knights of the Shining Star, lead by our much loved King Marakazian, have defeated the hated Grazen demons that have plagued our lands, murdered our people, for many years,’ she smiled at Marakon and he felt giddy under her gaze, under the gaze of the adoring crowd around him.

  She calls me Marakazian, but I am Marakon. The thought was vague under the weight of the crowd’s eyes.

  ‘Long ago these evil demons, led by the demon wizard Karhlusus, rose up from the Murk deep beneath Maioria. This depraved wizard found a way to unlock the gate to the underworld where the demons reside, and let loose these monsters.

  ‘But the goddess will not let such a despicable act go unpunished. She blessed our King Marakazian to find the most honourable and courageous men and women of our land to become the Knights of the Shining Star,’ the crowd cheered and whistled behind him, Marakon gave a sideways glance and smiled, trying not to shake under the pressure.

  ‘For our lives and the freedom of all Maioria from these demons, they fought valiantly, many have fallen, many have died, but they did not falter, such was their love, such was their determination to end the darkness that Karhlusus wrought upon us. Now, after many years of struggle they have, Maioria has, triumphed against the demons. They have been driven back to the Murk and beyond from whence they came. Behold King Marakazian! Behold the Knights of the Shining Star!’

  The crowd roared and chanted, “Knights of The Shining Star! King Marakazian!” Flowers of all colours and sizes were hurled upon the stage
, falling about Marakon’s feet as he stood and looked at the woman. She held out to him a shining long sword. He took it, paused a moment to see his reflection in the polished blade. A middle-aged man with blue eyes, short black hair and a black stubble of a beard. King Marakazian.

  He smiled and turned to face his knights. There were several hundred mounted before the stage, beyond which a huge crowd stretched out past the city walls. The knights were smiling and dressed as he, polished armour shining in the sunlight, bright white tabards with a silver star decorated on the front. Some knights held poles with long white banners and battle standards, each with a star embroidered in silver thread. Their horses snorted and tossed their heads as they stood. The sky was clear blue and the whole city was decorated in ribbons and flags that blew gently in the breeze. Beyond the red and brown roofs of the city rich green hills and forests stretched out and a blue lake glistened.

  He looked upon the Knights of the Shining Star, his knights, with such pride he thought his chest would burst. These were chosen men and women from all nations and all races, with only the purest of heart, the greatest valour and the strongest courage - all the things that were needed to fight the darkness of a demonic force. A force of Lesser Demons from the Murk and a force of far more deadly Greater Demons from beyond it.

  “Hail to our saviours, the Knights of the Shining Star!” The people chanted over and again.

  Marakon stepped down the wooden steps leading off the stage and took the reins from the young steward holding his white horse. He mounted and turned to face the crowd. As he walked his knights followed and the crowd parted before them, hands touching their horses, their feet and legs as they passed. Petals fell like snow all the way through the city and even beyond for people had come from far and wide to celebrate their victory over Karhlusus, over the Grazen Demons.

  Then the darkness came.

  It grew within Marakazian’s own heart and nothing could save him from it. Perhaps the demons put it there, it was said one can never truly defeat a demon, that the worst demon lived always in one’s own heart.

  The victories over the Grazen fed his invincibility. Now they were gone he wanted more. His honour turned into arrogance, abundance became greed. He, King Marakazian, had defeated the undefeatable, the people loved him as they did the goddess. He was blessed, he was a king becoming a god, and the world belonged to him. He had riches greater than any man, he had lands abundant and yet he wanted more. His kingdom would grow and if the people resisted, he decided, he would take their lands by force. And so he sought dominion over the people he had freed.

  ‘Get rid of Karhlusus,’ his Knights warned him, and not for the first time.

  Their faces were pale and drawn as they looked at him. They were clustered around the long wooden table beside a great fire. The room was dark save for the fire in the hearth and candles dripping wax upon the walls. He couldn’t stand their gaze, dropped his own and looked at the floor.

  ‘Great King Marakazian,’ Azon began, black hair short, brown eyes searching, beard trimmed and shaved into thin lines about his jaw and lip. Marakazian could barely hold his gaze, anger and something else that plagued and twisted his mind warred within him. ‘Send him back to the Murk for ever. Whatever you do, do not keep him near, he is a poison on your mind, on all our minds. His magic is dirty and evil and worse than that he is still strong in demonic magic.’

  ‘You would dare question your King?’ he challenged. How dare they question me, how dare they tell me what to do. It is I who rule and none other!

  Azon held his gaze for a moment, searching.

  Always they look at me with their damn searching eyes!

  Worry clouded Azon’s eyes and he looked away. ‘No,’ Azon breathed, ‘but he is a sickness on all our minds, in all ours hearts. With him here the darkness is close. Who knows what evil he spreads.’

  ‘As the old saying goes, Azon, I will keep my enemies close. Karhlusus is chained deep underground within our strongest dungeon. His body is bound in iron chains and enchantments seal his door. Do you really think he can harm us still?’ Marakazian chuckled in disbelief. He was not about to give up his trophy of war either. ‘Do you really think Karhlusus deserves such leniency as to be returned to his home in the Murk? You have grown soft, Azon, or forgotten the horror this bastard has wrought upon us! No I shall keep him there, forever if I must. Imprisoned as a trophy of war, and of unending punishment.’

  ‘My King, it is not the demon wizard’s body I fear but his mind,’ Azon said wearily. ‘No one can bind a wizard’s mind, and a mind that has been possessed by a demon lord at that. That cancer you hold deep within those dungeons will act according to its nature, it knows only to feed on life and destroy. It is our fear that whilst the leader of the Grazen remains alive he will always seek revenge.’

  ‘How dare you disagree with me,’ Marakazian seethed, his anger boiled up and spewed out, fury he did not know he possessed.

  Azon’s cheeks turned red, ‘I express only what we all fear, out of concern for you, for the Knights of the Shining Star, for the people…’

  But Marakazian’s anger was a torrent he could not reason with or control.

  ‘Call yourself a Knight of the Shining Star? Well you are no longer! Always you disagree with me, Azon, always. Disagree with your King! Now get out of here before I have you hanged for treason!’

  Fury and disbelief flashed in Azon’s eyes. The others looked on in shock too but Marakazian forced himself to to not look at them. Struggling to maintain the fury that would draw the sword from his scabbard.

  ‘All of you go, leave me,’ he wafted them away. They hurried out and he slumped on his red velvet draped throne. He sat there alone with his anger and befuddled thoughts. Dust flies swirled in the mottled sunlight that seeped through the windows.

  Azon had been right, Marakon thought as the image faded. They had always been right. How can a mad man see past his own madness? Greed and glory, a human’s blight. Karhlusus knew it well, used it well. Now that I think of it I could feel the darkness growing in my heart even then. But I learnt to ignore it, I wanted to ignore. I was invincible, I wanted to become a god, greater than all things. Those were the lies the Demon King whispered to me. I had destroyed him and taken his power and now he would destroy me.

  Nay, the sayings were all wrong, you should keep your enemies far far away. Karhlusus would ever be our undoing.

  Chapter 38

  Demon Wizard

  DEEP underground in the pitch black of his small stale prison, Karhlusus the demon wizard plotted and planned. His hands were bound in chains above his head so he could not sit down. His feet were chained splayed to the wall so he could move them. He had been bound for many years, or so he thought. In the darkness there was no way to tell.

  His hair and beard had grown long and straggly and hung in unwashed clumps about his scrawny chest. Beside him lay rotting chicken bones from the scraps of food they sometimes gave him. Most people would be disgusted by them, the putrefying clumps of flesh, the reminder of death waiting just around the corner. But he kept them close, bones were useful. It was a poor man’s magic that used bones, for sure, but useful nonetheless.

  The air stank of those rotting bones, dried sweat, the waste and urine on his body and feet. But Karhlusus did not mind the stench, for demon magic required the use of rotting things, the fetid and the slime, the bodily fluids and excrements of all types and from all things.

  He wore nothing but a rag in the cold and frigid darkness. But Karhlusus did not suffer the cold or the dark, in fact he thrived in it, such was a demon wizard’s disposition. For Karhlusus was not possessed by just any demon, no. He was a powerful human wizard and the ancient demon King Kull in one body. Kull was a Demon Lord, a Greater Demon from beyond the Murk and far more deadly than any Lesser Demon.

  Alone in the darkness with all the time in the world, Karhlusus plotted and planned and called to the fat and lazy King Marakazian whilst he slept. Oh yes, it was ea
sy to reach King Marakazian when he dreamed and Karhlusus could take any form and be anything he wanted to be. The stupid arrogant king believed he could be a god, and Karhlusus would make sure it was only through him would the king become a god. Oh yes, the fools were right, they could bind his body but a demon wizard’s mind was always free and always connected to demons. With his magic he could still reach the Murk, he could still reach the lesser Grazen Demons.

  ‘Make the potion,’ he whispered to the Grazen. Their yellow eyes flashed in the blackness, red mouths opened and closed, grinning, grimacing, hissing and chattering. ‘Make the potion and we will have our revenge.’ The potion would be a surprise. It would make the king invincible, just has he desired.

  It took time to make a demonic potion such as this, longer still to transport a physical object through veils between the Murk and Maioria. But Karhlusus was adept at demon magic and bound in his prison he had plenty of time to do it.

  ‘Shadows, come to me,’ Karhlusus whispered in Demon Tongue when the potion was ready.

  In the darkness a luminous green shape flashed before him, startling a rat chewing on a chicken bone. It ran away screeching into the darkness. More shapes flashed as he whispered the demonic words, his voice low and growling, the voice of King Kull within him.

  Some shapes were simple, such as the outline of a square or triangle, others were highly intricate lines and dashes. Each one flashed on the cold stone floor before him, one after the other, slowly at first, but as he spoke faster the shapes came quicker and as he spoke louder the shapes flashed brighter. Soon the shapes grew so bright they blinded him every time they appeared and his voice was so loud it boomed around him, rattling his chains and shaking the walls. But there was no one to hear him down in the deepest darkest dungeon.