Storm Holt (The Prophecies of Zanufey Book 3) (37 page)

‘Members of the Wizard’s Circle, please meet Issa, Zanufey’s Chosen and slayer of Keteth,’ Freydel said proudly. The wizards nodded and murmured. Her stomach lurched and she stared at the floor, wishing Freydel hadn’t called her that.

‘I should like to know how you did that,’ the tall, dark-haired wizard Freydel had introduced to her as Domenon said. The only other master wizard in Maioria asked in a tone that suggested he did not quite believe what he had heard. His dark grey eyes were guarded.

‘It was the Raven Queen,’ she blurted, then grimaced - she’d shown her nervousness. For some reason the wizards looked astonished at her reply. Freydel said he
had
told them everything she’d told him.
 

‘I don’t quite understand it,’ she added, annoyed that her voice wavered, she wanted to appear strong in front of these men. ‘But when the dark moon rises its power is somehow available to me. It fills me. The last time the dark moon rose, the Wykiry took me to him, to Keteth. I would have died but the raven came, the same raven that helped me on Little Kammy.’ She stopped abruptly. She was describing it all wrong and confusing herself. She clasped her hands behind her back to stop them fidgeting.
 

‘How very interesting.’ Domenon rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

‘Where are you from, Issa?’ the black-skinned wizard asked.

A man from Atalanph, she thought intrigued. She stared into the man’s incredibly blue eyes. He was tall and broad and seemed made of solid muscle. There were battle scars on his bare arms and a hardness in his face that demanded respect.
 

‘From the Isles of Kammy, west of central Frayon.’

‘And who are your parents?’ he asked. Despite his hard looks his tone was gentle and reassuring.

‘My adopted mother told me my real mother was a seer. I don’t know for sure but I think my father may have been a Daluni. My father is dead and I don’t know if my mother still lives.’ She replied honestly seeing no reason to hold back. Perhaps these powerful men would be able to shed light on her heritage and her abilities. ‘My adopted mother was killed when the Maphraxies came…’ she trailed off, not wanting to bring up painful memories here. The wizards nodded and shared a frown of sadness, hers was an all too common tale.

‘What do you know of Zanufey?’ the elf man Averen asked.

Issa looked at him, probably for too long before she answered. She was so unused to seeing elves, especially not in Maioria, and she found him stunningly beautiful, which only made her shyer. He had a much kinder face than Daranarta had had.

‘She talks to me sometimes, or rather, shows me things,’ Issa admitted reluctantly. She never felt comfortable talking about Zanufey to others. It felt too personal and she assumed that they would not believe her, especially when she sometimes doubted it herself. She still didn’t quite understand why Zanufey talked to her.

The wizards looked at each other in amazement, or disbelief, except Freydel who remained expressionless as he watched the reactions of the other men. She carried on, trying to find a better way to explain herself.

‘I don’t know why or how, but when my mind is still and I will it, I see a sacred place, a mound surrounded by ancient stones. There is an entrance to this mound, and it leads to other places, sometimes other planets. I imagine that I’m entering this mound and it seems I go there truly. Sometimes within it there is this desert. On this desert there is a doorway made of giant stones and she is there. Zanufey is there. She calls to me, she calls me
Maion’artheria
.’

‘It sounds like mind travel, or translocation,’ Freydel nodded.

The wizards began talking amongst themselves, all except Freydel and Domenon. She noticed his dark eyes never left her. She swallowed. Did the wizards not believe her? For a brief moment she sensed something strange about Domenon, or was it something familiar?
 

She focused on him with her mind, like she did when healing sick animals, but avoided looking at him. Immediately she sensed the briefest feeling she had when she was around Asaph. It was a subtle awareness that this person was not wholly human. Just as quickly the feeling was gone before she could get a handle on it, and she felt her mind shut off from him as if he’d shoved her away.

She glanced at him. There was a surprised look on his face that turned to amusement. He smiled at her in a way that made her cheeks grow hot. He seemed to look at her the same way a wizard treasures a magical object, something that is owned and used, or at least could be. She felt very small and looked away from him back to Freydel.

‘It means “My Sacred Daughter” in a tongue that precedes the Ancient’s,’ Freydel explained, silencing the other wizards. ‘So you see, gentlemen, there is a lot that fits with the ancient prophecies.’

She had a thought and thought it wise to ask her own question of them. ‘Do you know of this sacred mound? Of where it is or what it might be or mean?’ She hoped one of them would know something about it, but the wizards simply looked at each other, frowned, then shook their heads. ‘Never mind,’ she sighed. Maybe the Oracle or the seers would know, if she ever got to meet them.

‘Why do you think Zanufey talks to you?’ the dwarf asked, he sounded sceptical but not unfriendly.

‘I don’t know.’ Issa shrugged. ‘It’s like she is trying to guide me. I also get visions of this Raven Queen. She is a warrior skilled in the sword and magic. I don’t quite understand it, but when the dark moon rises it seems I am her, or when there is danger and my life is threatened, this warrior takes over me.’

‘It’s no different to my soldiers at war,’ King Navarr said. ‘When on the battlefield, well-trained, skilled and experience soldiers find themselves committing amazing feats of bravery. After the battle they always say they have now idea how they did it, and are adamant they don’t have the courage or the skill to do it again. Until the next battle comes of course, and they act the same way.’

Issa nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose it feels a little like that.’ She smiled at the king, glad to have someone help explain her feelings. He smiled back. Perhaps the Raven Queen was always with her then, a warrior sleeping within ready to awaken when needed, much like Asaph’s dragon self.

‘This Daluni talent you have, is it like this?’
 

The unspoken question made her jump. Only Asaph had ever spoken to her telepathically in that manner, and he could only communicate that way as a dragon. It seemed far too intimate.

‘Didn’t you know that Daluni can talk to each other telepathically?’

The voice, or the sound of the voice in her head, was Averen’s. She looked at the elf, colouring a little under his violet gaze.

‘I didn’t know. The only other Daluni I knew were the karalanths,’
Issa said. The words flowed far more quickly and easily than having spoken them aloud.

‘Ah, well, most elves have the Daluni talent too. Karalanth’s will only speak this way with other karalanths, and their talent is different, they use pictures rather than words,’
Averen said.

‘The animals mostly use pictures when they talk to me, it can sometimes be difficult to interpret,’
Issa said, realising then the similarities and differences between speaking with animals and humans in this manner.
‘But the
Wykiry used words.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’
Averen said.
‘It gets easier communing with animals, but takes lots of practice. The Wykiry can use any form of mind communication. They still remember being human despite being permanently in a non-human form. And don’t worry, you can relax, I’m not here to interrogate you.’
Averen smiled at her, and turned back to listen to Freydel.

Issa felt his mind distance itself from hers, and a wave of relaxing calmness spread over her, leaving her to wonder how he’d done that. These wizards really were masters, she could learn so much from them.

‘Daluni mind-speak is best left for later, don’t you think, Averen?’ Domenon said.

Averen replied, completely unfazed. ‘Not between Daluni, Domenon.’
 

Domenon smiled at her again, and Issa wondered if he’d somehow been able to pick up on what was said between them. He made her nervous and yet the unease he deliberately seemed to spread intrigued her at the same time. There was definitely something odd about him, possibly dangerous.

‘I would like to see how she is in the Flow. Just like we ask all novices before they undergo training in the arcane arts,’ Haelgon said, and the others nodded in agreement. ‘Issa, would you mind? We shall all enter the Flow first and then you can follow, all right?’

Issa nodded and hid her reluctance. She didn’t like to do anything with the Flow when she was even slightly nervous and unsure - erratic feelings caused erratic energy, and she really didn’t want to look like an amateur.
But she was still a novice, she reminded herself, and had barely had any training in using magic. Yet she had already used it so many times to save her own life. It was strange, but in this pure place of power she could sense the other wizards enter the Flow, even though she herself was not in it.
 

‘Enter now, Issa,’ Freydel said. He had his eyes closed beside her.

She shut her eyes and tried to still her nerves as she focused. Gently she stepped into the Flow. Her heart began to pound, reminding her that she had barely recovered from her overuse of magic. She hoped they wouldn’t ask her to do anything too strenuous with it.
 

‘Good, Issa,’ Freydel said.

She could see the others in the swirling mass of energy that moved and billowed around and through them. Entering the Flow was always like looking at another reality overlaid upon the physical world. The magic that swirled around the two master wizards was immense. The Flow pooled around Domenon in waves of blues and reds, whilst the energy that pooled around Freydel was lighter and more varied in colour, like the colours of the rainbow, but just as powerful if not more so. Averen and Haelgon pooled their own magic though it did not move around them as strongly or in such quantities.

She chose not to pool the Flow, and instead let it flow through her easily as it wanted to do. She felt exhilarated in the magic once more, and besides these powerful magic users the Flow was an awesome flood of power.

‘See and feel how the Flow wants to go to her?’ Freydel said, his voice echoed a little.

‘The energy around her is indigo, like the blue of the dark moon,’ Averen said, a hint of wonder in his voice. ‘Can you pull the dark moon’s power to you now?’

‘No. I can only reach it when it is rising full over Maioria,’ she said.

‘Can you try?’ It was Domenon.

‘Maybe.’ She was wary of doing anything she had not done before, but she had to try in front of the wizards. She heard herself say, ‘I’ll try.’ She let her mind expand, searching outwards for the dark moon. Somewhere out there in the deepness of space she knew the dark moon moved.
 

‘It’s a long way away,’ she said. Could it feel her searching for it? Could she reach it? She stilled her mind further, focusing only upon the dark moon. And then, yes, she felt it. It was far away, but then she felt it drawing her to it faintly.
 

I don’t understand the connection we share. If you can touch me with your power just a little…
There came a movement of energy, and then the faintest feel of its power filled her. The Flow around her shimmered, and she stared at it in shock along with the surprised voices of the wizards. She now felt tired.

‘Very good, Issa,’ Freydel said. ‘I think that’s enough for now?’

There were murmurs of agreement.

‘I would like to see how much of the Flow she can pull to her.’ That was Domenon again.

‘Domenon, I think that has been enough,’ Freydel said. ‘Issa has suffered much lately, I don’t want her to exhaust herself with magic again. Despite how powerful she might become it’s still very taxing for a novice user of magic.’

There came mixed murmurs. ‘I don’t know, Freydel, I think Domenon is right,’ said Averen.

‘Pooling the Flow is not the same as using it,’ Haelgon added.

‘I agree with Domenon,’ Luren said. It was the first time she’d heard the young man speak.

‘All right,’ Freydel sighed. ‘Issa, if you want to, call the Flow to you, as much as you feel comfortable with.’

She nodded, feeling like she was performing on stage and about to be judged. She remembered Freydel’s lessons, and began to draw the Flow to her.
I must not let myself get carried away in its ecstasy,
she reminded herself. The first time she had pooled the Flow in company she had nearly lost herself and exploded Freydel’s entire study. Not losing the self and not pooling too much too quickly were both tests in themselves, and she realised that was why they had asked her to do it.

In this place of power the Flow came willingly and easily to her, like reaching out and grabbing long strings of ribbons billowing in the air. The stream she held quickly became a river, and then a torrent flooding through and around her, and yet she stood firmly and easily within it. She grinned, nothing came close to the feel of magic flowing through you.

She reached for more until the torrent doubled then trebled in size. Still more she could hold and soon it seemed as if all the Flow was coming to her, a great tide of exhilarating energy that was a roar in her ears and a rush in her body. If she thought about it it would overwhelm her and wash her away. She just had to be it and experience it without thought.