by A F Stewart
Lynna glanced at her as if only now aware of her presence. “You’ve come? To join the fight?”
“Yes.” Rafe answered for his sister pre-empting any possible confessions. “Bevire brought me an exceptional arrow for the Hunter’s Bow. We now have a complete weapon to kill Ashetus.”
“Well,” Lynna smiled at her sister. “I’m surprised...and glad of it.” She turned back to Rafe. “But first we must destroy his rising army.”
“Agreed.” The captain shouted to his crew, “Full sail! Top speed to Crickwell Island!”
“I can help with that. Get you there faster. As fast as I can swim.” Lynna grinned, her eyes sparkling in mischief. “Do you think you can ride one of my waves all the way in?”
Rafe matched her grin, his own eyes dancing. “Try me.” He strode to the helm, barking, “I’ll take the wheel, Mr. Anders.” Anders relinquished the wheel, sliding away with trepidation. Rafe shouted out to the crew, “Hold on to something tight, boys! This will be rough and fast!”
The crew furled out every sail as Lynna leapt over the rail before battening down any loose gear along with themselves. Rafe summoned all his magic and gripped the wheel with both hands, letting his energy flow into the wood. He felt his magic merge with the Jewel, the ship snapping power through her keel.
Rafe turned her course heading to Crickwell, a fortunate wind at their back pushing the sails, speed surging them forward. The stern lurched, water crashed against her sides, and the Jewel’s bow arched upwards as a giant wave swelled underneath the ship and increased the speed threefold.
Sparks of green and blue crackled around the ship, the strength of combined magic accelerating her momentum heaving the ship forward at tremendous speed. Cries and curses echoed from the crew and prayers to every god were sputtered, including the pair of deities that raced them toward Crickwell Island.
They rounded the headland coming into Red Bay in time to see waves of the dead streaming from the swells, attacking the island and the Navy ships defending it. Sea Ghouls shrieked from the air, swooping and diving, harassing ships and the town of Red Bay.
Lynna’s wave suddenly dropped, the Jewel thumping down on normal tide and a buffer of the ship’s magic. The Goddess of the Sea raced away with a cry of, “You’re on your own!” outdistancing the Jewel.
“Mr. Anders take the wheel!” The sailor grabbed the helm, and Rafe strode across deck shouting, “Blackthorne you have the ship! Take her into the fray, full speed, cannons blazing!” Without breaking stride, he took hold of Bevire’s arm pulling her along in his wake. “We need to go, sister. Lynna can handle the attacking dead, but we’ll have to deal with the Ghouls.”
“Can’t you control them?” She struggled in his grip, trying to break free.
“Not anymore. Ashetus rules them now. I need your shadow to help fight them. People will die if we don’t help. Time to make amends, Bevire.”
She stopped resisting and kept pace, a sudden determined look on her face. “If that’s what you need.”
The pair summoned their magic in unison and soared from the ship, directly into the battle. They flashed across the sky leaving streaks of black and blue glazing the horizon, tearing into the skies over Red Bay.
A cadre of six ghouls rushed to meet them, their wailing voices vibrating the air, clawed fingers outstretching to slash. With a snarl of rage and a shout of defiance, Rafe tossed a blast of sizzling blue magic at the nearest of them, shattering their forms into mist. Bevire lashed out with whips of shadow magic, twisting her power around the remaining necks and slicing off their ghostly heads. Severed ghoul remains tumbled into the sea.
More ghouls broke off their attacks on the town and the ships and then swarmed towards the gods. From the sea below them, came the sonorous blast of the Horn of the Gods. The wave of magic-fuelled sound pierced the nub of the invading army, and, in an instant, every creature of the dead shuddered in discordant noise and jarring convulsions. They shrieked a concurrent crescendo of defiled pain, a pinnacle of shouted suffering and fury. Skeletons fell from rigging, collapsed on the beaches, ghouls thrashed and dove into the sea. Above it all, Rafe marvelled at the power unfolding. Lynna harnessed far more of the Horn’s might than he had. With those fleeting thoughts, he and Bevire descended.
Another blast from the horn caught the legions of the dead in its grip, smashing breaker and bone, echoing its power across Crickwell Island, and devastating the remaining army. For a moment, there was silence. Then from the depths of the sea came an answering call, a wail of anguish unheard since before the time of mortal men. Such a hideous, primal cry that fear shuddered through blood, bile rose in every throat and brought unbidden tears to the eyes. As the last note of the howl faded, the few invading dead that survived Lynna’s final blast fled, racing back far, far below the sea.
Rafe landed on a beach and looked across the water to see Lynna wave the Horn in triumph. He knew this battle was over, if the war still remained to be won. To the west, among the clouds, a black crow flew laughing silently.
THE LIGHT OF THE BONFIRES danced against the night, embers floating skyward to kiss the stars. The rum flowed, and the laughter echoed, the jubilation drifting on the wind. Rafe watched it from a quiet corner of the beach in the lee of a dune, glad of the respite of victory but knowing it was momentary, that the true fight still lay ahead.
Far to his left, singing lustily with a bottle of rum in his hand stood Lieutenant Vaughan surrounded by several equally drunken navy sailors. He saw Lynna swimming offshore, tossing gentle surf back towards Pelham and laughing. He shook his head at the sight, surprised at the odd pairing and their sudden intimate behaviour.
Lynna is always one to take a peculiar liking to people. Quick to size them up. I wonder what she sees in him.
Rafe sighed and let his gaze wander elsewhere. He scanned the crowds for his other sister, not seeing her anywhere.
He murmured under his breath, “Where did you wander off to, Bevire?”
“Right here, brother.” Her voice came from the shadows, and Bevire melted out of the dark. “The night on this world is lovely.” She looked up at the sky. “The stars have a different glitter here than the Isle of Shadows. Not as bright, but warmer, more mischievous. I think they like your mortals better than the gods.”
“Maybe. Maybe the gods hide from them more.” Rafe smiled. “But the nights are lovely. One day perhaps I’ll show you the view at sea or when our sister’s moon is full. It’s magnificent.”
“I’d like that.” She sat down on the sand. “Do you think we’ll ever see that time? Do you think we will survive? Or have I doomed this world?” She picked up a handful of sand and let it trickle through her fingers. “I never wanted that. I—I wanted—I don’t know what I wanted. Except to stop being afraid.” She sighed and smoothed some sand with her palm. “I let my fear rule me. Let the Crow’s lies convince me. I was a fool.”
Rafe pursed his lips, hesitating. He finally asked the questions crowding his thoughts since the temple. “Why did you fear me so much? What did I do? Are you still afraid?”
“You did nothing. It’s nothing you did. It’s what you could do.” She stared at Rafe, her fingers curling around empty air. “You hold power over each of us, brother, god or mortal. You know that.” She turned away, but not before he saw traces of fear flickering in her eyes. “Even gods have souls. Even gods can die at your hands.” She turned back before Rafe could reply, her words still tumbling out of her mouth. “So I lived in that shadow, I, Goddess of all Shadows, under yours. That possibility, that fear, ate at me until it nearly consumed me. So I let myself believe the Crow’s promises.” She hung her head, her next words barely whispered. “The worse thing of all is what I released. I feared the death of gods, yet I released a creature that may be able to kill them, even control them long after death. How pathetically poetic is that fate?”
Rafe smiled soft and with reassurance. “It is not our fate to die. That is the fate of Ashetus. And, listen to me
, from someone who has made many blunders in his lifetime, you must learn from your mistakes. Live with your regrets. The past is fixed. You can only change the future.” He reached over and laid his hand on her shoulder. “I need you focused on that task, saving our future. With his army driven back, tomorrow we sail to Raven Rock to destroy Ashetus.”
Bevire turned her head and smiled. “You are right. The only thing that matters is the death of Ashetus.” She turned her head up to stare at the stars. “This ends one way or the other at Raven Rock.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Summoning
THE GREY SISTERS STOOD on the beach to greet them as Rafe, Lynna, and Bevire floated into shore on a wave of their power. The Celestial Jewel anchored in the cove’s harbour with two naval ships, the Star’s Hope commanded by Pelham, and the Sprightly Lark captained by a newly promoted Commander Vaughan.
The trio of gods landed on the sand, met by cackling laughter.
“Welcome back, God of Souls. You have done well. Driven back the bones, found the bow, and received the gift.” The Sisters stared at the bow and makeshift quiver containing Bevire’s arrow as well as other arrows slung over Rafe’s shoulder. “The black arrow will give a killing shot if you take care to pierce one of its eyes.” They stared as Rafe unconsciously fidgeted and shifted his feet in the sand.
They laughed again, swinging their gaze to Lynna who carried the Horn.
“I see the Huntress of the Sea received her prize as well.” Finally, they turned their eyes to Bevire. “And welcome, Goddess of Shadows. We are glad you have joined us. We have much work for you.” The three women smiled. “Come.” And they turned and walked towards the trees where, once again, the forest bent to their will and created a path for them.
Rafe sighed and followed, signalling to his siblings to do the same. Once more, the Grey Sisters led the way to their tree encircled clearing. All six walked into the glade where silver mist swirled around a crystal orb atop an ornate metal stand.
For a moment, Rafe studied the strange object: a three-legged stand—made of filigree metalwork and patterned leaves—with a brazier at the bottom. Its top curved into a half sphere but flattened out to hold a smaller stand and the orb. The crystal itself seemed to glow varying its colour between silver and blue.
He looked up to see the Grey Sisters staring back. “For the Summoning. It is the Oculus Teardrop.”
Bevire sucked in breath and exclaimed, “Oh my! Really?”
“Yes, Shadow Goddess, and soon you will be a part of it. We only await one other.”
“Someone else is coming?” Rafe asked the question still pondering what an Oculus Teardrop was and why it impressed Bevire.
The Grey Sisters nodded. “The Goddess of the Moon comes. But she moves on her own time.”
Suddenly, as if to belay those words, a shimmer of silver streaked out of the sky and the Goddess of the Moon landed in the clearing, skipping across the ground. She stopped by the Grey Sisters and tilted her head at her family.
“You are all here. And not dead.”
Rafe moved forward a step. “You sound surprised.”
“That you are here, no. Knew she would come,” Manume nodded at Lynna, “if she survived the horn.” Then she turned her head to Bevire. “But you, unexpected. Thought you would hide. Hide, hide in your darkness. Away from what you did.”
Bevire straightened her posture and snapped, “Well I didn’t! And you’re one to talk! Considering the things you’ve done!”
Manume smiled. “True, true. We’ve both been naughty. Listened to a nasty little bird whisper nasty little things. Someday we should talk about that bird, you and I.”
Bevire inhaled sharply and let the breath out slowly. “Perhaps we should. Someday.” The two sisters smiled warily at each other.
“You will have to reach someday first, Goddesses.” The Grey Sisters intruded on their moment. “But today, we have much work to do. Starting with you, Shadow Goddess.”
“Me?” Bevire took a step back, shock in her voice.
“The God of Souls has his Bow. The Sea Huntress, her Horn. We need the Moon Goddess for the Summoning and to hold the spell. You will give the edge to the mortal warriors. Touch their weapons with your shadows. Fight the darkness with darkness.”
Bevire smiled. “Like the arrow.”
“Yes, but we will give you some help.” They shuffled forward and beckoned Bevire to follow. She advanced and they all surrounded the orb. “We will draw a bit of the realms for you to borrow.” They smiled, and Bevire matched their grin.
“I see.” She turned to Rafe. “What weapons do your ships have?”
“The sailors on all the ships have swords. Some carry knives, and there’s the cannon. The Jewel also has harpoons.”
“Metal things. Good. Easy to infuse with magic.” She addressed the Grey Sisters. “Let’s begin.”
Each of the sister witches put a hand on the Oculus Teardrop. They began to chant, “Rhwchyn ni i ni iymlad dytywyll. Rhwchyn ni i ni ber i ni drechur Und Chryn Llyd.”
Three times they intoned the words until the Teardrop began to glow. Slowly, they moved their hands upward. With the ascent of their fingers, energy was drawn from the orb until a trio of smaller power orbs floated above the Oculus Teardrop. The Grey Sisters stared at Bevire, twisted their wrists, and cried, “Ryd yn ni rhyrwr phwn! Dwies ysy Cysgodin!”
The energy spheres abruptly flew, slamming into Bevire’s body. She convulsed, her limbs jerking, but did not scream or cry out. Rafe took a step forward, but Lynna’s hand on his arm restrained him from interfering.
Bevire shook, her body briefly shining in a greyish silver glow, and then she ceased moving, her body settling quietly.
“It is done. Do you feel it? It won’t last forever, but long enough.”
Bevire nodded. “Yes. This will succeed most wonderfully.” She laughed, a sound soft and disturbing. “I’ll return then, and get to work.” She spun around conjuring her magic, black shadows racing from the forest to surround her. With a cry of, “I’ll see you back on the ship!’ she disappeared in a swirl of darkness.
Rafe sighed. “Do I want to know what she’s doing?”
“I think you know already, and she’s giving your mortals a chance to survive the battle.” The Grey Sisters cackled, and Manume giggled an echo of their laughter. “Now you two, Captain and Hunter, stand there and there.” The three witches pointed at opposite spots two feet from the Oculus Teardrop. Rafe and Lynna moved into place.
The Grey Sisters shuffled outward moving to stand in a semi-circle next to their orb. Manume moved without being asked to position herself opposite the Sisters, creating a loose circle around the sphere and the stand.
“This must be done in stages. First, we must peel back the tiers between realms to see the beast.” The Grey Sisters nodded at Manume, and the four of them placed their hands on the Oculus Teardrop.
Beneath the stand, the brazier burst into life, a flame blazing and smoke twirling upward. The smoke rose and writhed around the Oculus Teardrop, circling a course around the sphere, never climbing higher in the air.
Together all the women chanted, “Agoryff ordd, Agoryff tyordd. Daynswch yra nifail, yr Und Chryn Llyd.”
The brazier smoke flowed into the Teardrop, twisting inside like a snake to emerge through the top and expand. It spun as it grew and shredded a rift into the air. Through the breach between spaces, a viewing portal developed, and, slowly, Ashetus’ prison realm came into focus.
Visible in the shifting smoke was Ashetus, the Terrible One.
The immense ancient being lay on a bed made from thousands of bones, surrounded by hundreds more skeletons and corpses: men, women, monsters and other beings. Each dead body wailed, swaying, shuffling from foot to foot, but never moving from their place, forever bound to Ashetus.
Rafe sharply inhaled and Lynna snarled under her breath. Manume spat on the ground, but the Grey Sisters did nothing. As they watched this creature, its tentac
les wriggling, distended body squirming, it rolled. Six red eyes gleamed, and an appendage lashed out wrapping around one of its corpse slaves. The moving body looked a little decayed, slightly bloated, skin peeling, one eye missing, but still retaining most of its flesh along with the tattered remains of a uniform. Ashetus raised the wailing body high above what passed for its head and opened its maw wide. Three rows of razor-sharp fangs gnashed, and the tentacle dropped the now screaming body into its mouth. None of the gods or witches looked away as the teeth chewed rotting flesh and skeletal bone to pulp, swallowing all into its gullet.
“Carrion eater.” Manume spat again. “Scavenger. Filthy thing.”
“Yes.” The voice of the Grey Sisters agreed, their tone soft, almost sad. “We need to end this beast that should never have begun. Do you have what you need? A location? Can you fix the conduit to bring him here?”
She nodded. “I do. I see the one in place. A nudge, a push. He will follow where I lead.”
“Then begin.”
Manume inhaled and closed her eyes. A sparkle of silver lit up her hair and shimmered across her skin, skipping across the surface of the orb. The rift snapped closed, and the smoke rushed down back into the orb, sucking the moon magic with it. Inside the sphere, they danced together, smoke and silver light, swirling in a tide of a newly born storm, pulling at the threads that bound the prison of Ashetus to the world of mortal men.
Lynna, Rafe, the Grey Sisters, and the Goddess of the Moon all stared at the maelstrom contained within the orb, their gazes never wavering. They stood, caught in the eye of the storm, for hours, minutes, an eternity, the passage of time rushing by and standing still.
Manume’s voice broke the spell. “It is done. The conduit is moved. The beast stirs. The beast moves!” She shrieked, laughing and screaming at the same time. “To the west! Fly to the west, brother! Sister to the sea!”
As if a strange tether was snapped, both Rafe and Lynna sprang into action, shooting into the sky in a blaze of magic, headed to where their sister directed. Below them, their ships sailed into a westerly defensive position, Bevire, Goddess of Shadows and Night, standing on the prow of the Jewel.