Storm Holt (The Prophecies of Zanufey Book 3) (16 page)

Then the spear was gone and an immense battle was taking place below her, thousands of demons battling against each other. Demons of all sizes and shapes, black and grey and brown, winged and wingless, were locked together in a vicious struggle. Blinding explosions rocked her vision and demon magic surged. Black blood splattered the barren ground and the screams of demons tore at her soul.
 

‘Please stop,’ she rasped. She had to get away from this demonic place.
 

A blast shook the earth and she screamed, demon magic rumbled. Then there was nothing. Instead of howling demons and blinding explosions, there was deafening silence and darkness. A large crystal shard filled the darkness and glowed green. That same hideous demon face appeared above it. Its eyes were flaming yellow. Its face was a permanent scowl as it hungered for her soul. She choked down terror and shivered uncontrollably under the demon’s gaze.
 

The vision swirled into a vortex of energy. Lightning and storm clouds spun in a maelstrom, making her sway sickeningly. The demon’s face was the only thing that remained static in the vortex, its eyes never leaving hers.

‘Issa?’ Asaph’s voice called from somewhere distant. She blinked open her eyes and stared up into the worried faces of Asaph and Coronos. Duskar’s long face loomed over them both, ears pricked forward with interest.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, but her voice was weak. Asaph helped her to sit up and scowled at the raven that always seemed to be the cause of their problems.

‘It’s not his fault,’ she gasped. ‘He is only delivering messages.’

‘Some message,’ Asaph grumbled.

They were on the grass to the side of the road. Passers-by looked at them curiously but didn’t stop to offer any help.

‘Drink some water,’ Coronos said, passing her a flagon.

She drank some and felt better. ‘I’m fine,’ she repeated, her voice stronger. ‘What happened?’

‘You went quiet and pale. Then you nearly fell off your horse,’ Asaph explained. ‘Duskar tried to keep you mounted long enough for me to grab you. Otherwise you’d have another nasty bruise.’
 

She smiled. ‘Thanks. I… Ehka showed me a vision. I don’t understand yet. But I keep seeing demons…’ an uncontrollable shudder made her stop. ‘But I don’t know why. They are horrifying.’

After she had caught her breath she insisted they continue. The men were dubious, but they helped her remount Duskar, and set off at a slower pace.

‘Do you think the raven went to demon world, to the Murk?’ Coronos asked when they had settled into the pace again.

‘Yes,’ Issa said. ‘I’m sure of it. I’ve seen that awful place twice in the last few days, but as usual I don’t know why or what it means.’

‘It will no doubt become clearer in time,’ Coronos said.

‘Hmph, hopefully it won’t be too late for whatever it was supposed to mean,’ Issa said. Why did her visions and Ehka’s messages always have to be so cryptic? Or perhaps they weren’t, but she just didn’t understand what they were trying to say.

‘Do you know anything about a white spear? I keep seeing it. It seems magical, it’s definitely powerful, and it glows and hums. I see it whenever I see the demons,’ she looked at the men hopefully.

Coronos frowned in thought, then he shook his head. ‘Nothing comes to mind. I know little about the demons, only that there was a great war a long, long time ago. The lands to the west were lost and many perished until the demon gates were sealed shut.
 

‘It’s interesting because the Kuapoh on the Uncharted Lands also know about the demon wars. They say their ancestors came from the land in the sea, and there were great wars against them. The demons still plague the Kuapoh now and then. They call them incubi and succubi. They are their ancestors who became possessed by demons long ago.’

‘Why would demons be of concern to us when our enemies are the Maphraxies? Why would the raven go to the Murk anyway?’ Asaph asked.

Issa shook her head. ‘It doesn’t make any sense and we already have enough on our plate. I don’t want to see anymore demons.’
 

And what of the knights? She hadn’t mentioned them.
“The raven searches for the Cursed King…”
Edarna’s words spoken so long ago. She looked for Ehka, he was circling high above them. Had he somehow found the Cursed King? Was she supposed to find this strange white spear? She chewed her lip in frustration. She hoped Coronos was right, and it would become clearer in time
.

BOKAARD swung his axe. A roar of fury exploded from his lips as he struck down two of the slimy fish bastards at once, their blood spraying all over him and the decks. He spun fast, ducked, and sliced the webbed feet off a third. His blood was alive with the fire of life, his heart pounded in his chest as he prepared himself for a rush of four more Histanatarns. Four was too many but what else could he do? Fight to the end.

At the stern on the higher deck he glimpsed Marakon cornered by two fish bastards. Bokaard laughed, his voice mingling with the clash of metal and screams of soldiers.
Two of us sea dogs overwhelmed by an army of fishy devils. I’ll bet you’ll cut down fifty before they take you, you lucky one-eyed bastard.

Bokaard grinned back at the four approaching. They didn’t have the facial features to mirror his expression in mockery. They just snarled and ran for him.

‘I thought that was it then,’ Bokaard said, sipping his steaming hot chocolate, trying to control the tremor in his hands that had never quite left him since that day. ‘I was ready for it - death - as I always have been. So many of us had fallen by then anyway…

‘But that was when the real terror came, when death on wings made of the night filled the sky. The Dread Dragons of Baelthrom blotted out the sun and filled me with terror worse than any demon out of the Murk. When I saw those Dread Dragons above us… For the first time in my life I prayed to Doon. I knew it was probably too late to ask him to give me favours, but it was all I could think to do.’

Rasia sipped her own hot chocolate, spellbound as Bokaard told his story.

‘None of us could move, not even the Histanatarns. We were frozen to the deck in dragon fear. They were so huge, their eyes burned red, and their screams ripped right through you. For a while they flew low and circled the ships. I don’t know why they didn’t attack us immediately, it seemed they were waiting for something, maybe for a command from that immortal bastard through their cursed amulets. Again, I thought, this is it, my life is done.’

Rasia took his cup, refilled it, and sat down again silently, not wanting to interrupt the big Atalanphian man in case he forgot any part of the story. She had to know what happened to Marakon. Her own hands were trembling in hope or fear or both. Bokaard continued, his brilliant blue eyes looking into the past.

‘The Dread Dragons all screamed at once - a terrible sound - and we fell to the decks, soldiers and Histanatarns alike. Then the fire came and the whole world turned red.’ He rubbed the bandages around his hands. Though it had been well over a week ago, maybe more, maybe less, he’d lost all track of the days since, but the burned skin on his hands was still painful. Rasia had salved them and bandaged them as soon as he’d arrived. Somehow his face was not as bad, though patches of red and white marred his shaven scalp.

‘The fire got me up onto my hands and knees, I mean, the whole deck was alight. The heat was so immense my sun shields were melting on my face. The four Histanatarns I’d been fighting now ran at me, four flaming balls of fire desperately trying to get into the sea. They were quicker than me at reacting, no wonder they are so good at surviving, tough slippery buggers. They didn’t even care I was there, and ran straight into me. We slammed into the burning rails and became entangled in rigging. The rails gave way and we fell into the sea.

‘The feel of that cold water on my burned skin was like Doon answering my prayers. I think I became a believer at that moment,’ Bokaard sighed and smiled, wiped his eyes in remembered relief.
 

‘Now my world was no longer on flame, but filled with water. I was not going to burn alive, I was going to drown with the sinking rigging and dead Histanatarns. Ha-ha, how hilarious I find it now. Looking back. How many times I thought I would die, and each time a different death confronted me. First it was the Histanatarns, then it was the Dread Dragons, then it was the fire and now I would die by drowning.’

Rasia smiled at him. ‘It’s incredible. I don’t know if you are blessed or cursed to survive all that.’
 

He smiled, but then saw the tears in her eyes. He reached forwards and took her hand in his. ‘Marakon has luck on his side, more than I ever had.’

‘No, please.’ Rasia shook her head and looked away, a tear escaping down her cheek before she could stop it. ‘Please don’t stop, don’t let me break your thoughts. Tell me everything you can remember.’

Bokaard let her hand go and tried to remember what happened next.

‘Everything was a blur, I hurt in a hundred places and I couldn’t breathe. All around me rigging and debris were falling into the ocean. I remember seeing wood burn under water and being fascinated by it. The ships’ hulls were groaning and cracking under the strain of their burning topsides. A strange sound, like a tortured whale dying slowly. I managed to struggle out of the rigging, and searched for the surface. I found it, only to fill my lungs full of smoky air. It made me choke even more. Then my ship began to roll sideways, towards me. I swam harder than I’d ever swum in my life, but the mast and sail came down over me and the world turned black.’

He sipped his drink then shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea how I survived that day or after it. All I can say is that when the blackness ended I was not dead. Although I wished I was. I awoke on my back. Rope entangled my legs and dragged them under water. Other ropes entangled my arms attaching me to a five-foot square piece of hull. That was what kept me above water. Both my arms and legs were dead. I don’t know what was attached to me beneath the water, but I felt like I had been stretched two feet taller.
 

‘I was desperately thirsty, more thirsty than when I’d trained as a soldier in the desert - and we Atalanphs have been trained to go for a week without water. My vision came and went and I was hallucinating badly. But in my clear moments I saw nothing other than wreckage and an endless blue ocean.’

Rasia looked away and wiped at the tears falling down her face. She bit her nails. Outside the window her two boys were playing chase. Bokaard found their laughter lifted the gloom a little.

‘Look,’ Bokaard began, ‘it does not mean Marakon is dead. He may have survived, just like I did.’ He wasn’t sure if it was a good or foolish thing to say. That he survived was a miracle, to expect that miracle to be granted to another was a long step.

‘I know,’ Rasia breathed. ‘I still hope,’ she nodded, but continued to stare at her children playing outside.

Bokaard decided to go on with the story just so it was told, even though he did not see Marakon again. It might help to take her mind off her suffering, if only for a little while, and he wanted to tell her what he had seen.