Storm Holt (The Prophecies of Zanufey Book 3) (40 page)

Issa was right. Asaph was angry. Furious even.
 

‘You just cannot accept this stupid invite,’ he shouted. His handsome face flushed red as he towered over her.

As her own temper flared. How dare he talk to her like that. Who did he think he was? She was vaguely aware of a servant closing the door to the dining room where they argued.

‘I’ll go where the hell I want. Even if it is to hell,’ she shouted back and stood tall, folding her arms across her chest.

‘This is madness. Why do you insist on throwing yourself in harm’s way?’ he whirled away and leant on the mantelpiece. ‘How can I help you there if there is trouble? Do you care so little for yourself? Do you care so little for me and the others?’

Issa didn’t know what to say, Asaph had spoken the truth. She
did
care little for herself. Her own desires just seemed unimportant for the tasks she felt drove her. Did she care so little for Asaph? She cared for him a great deal, too much, and that was the problem. She didn’t want to get close to him and suffer losing him like she had Ely and Rance, her mother and all her friends. She cared more for Asaph and everyone else than she did herself. But if she was Zanufey’s chosen, then her relationship with Asaph had to come second.

‘I would rather you didn’t care for me. Can’t you find a nice Draxian woman to spend your life with?’ she retorted. ‘Being with me will only get you killed. Don’t you see? Our time together is meaningless in the face of what we have to do. There simply is no time for us.’

Asaph paled. She immediately regretted her words. The stunned look on his face made her feel faint and her anger dissipated. She’d hurt him, deeply some how. He stood up straight, looked away from her, and stalked out of the room.

She struggled for words, trying to find something better to say, only to watch the door close behind him. She blinked back tears and slumped into a chair, rubbing her pounding temples.

ISSA stood before the Wizard’s Circle once more. After a doing nothing but eating, sleeping and exploring the extensive castle grounds, she felt strong and ready for anything, even entering the Storm Holt.
 

She had not seen Asaph since their row. She’d been deliberately avoiding him since then and supposed he’d been doing the same. She wished he was here now, wished he could come with her. She didn’t want to do this alone.

She began to wonder what she had got herself into this time. The wizards all seemed far more solemn than the last time they’d met. Freydel looked positively worried, but then he had actively opposed her entering the Storm Holt.
 

It was night but the shield above glowed softly pink and the gentle illumination of the orbs set them all in a calming soft light. She was dressed in her simple tunic, blacksmith’s belt, riding boots and sword. She had wrapped the talisman in cloth and stuffed it into her belt as a last thought.

‘You cannot take anything into the Storm Holt,’ Freydel said, indicating her sword. ‘Not the orb, jewellery, or even clothes.’

‘Oh,’ she said. So much for her sword, orb and talisman. And the dark moon couldn’t even reach her there. Then perhaps it would prove whether the Raven Queen was always within her. She had not showed them the talisman yet, but now didn’t seem to be the right time.
 

‘I’ll just leave them here, then.’ She put her sword on the ground along with the talisman and Ely’s bracelet. She hesitated as she took off Asaph’s ring. Without it he would have no link to her, she would be completely alone in the world of demons. What if she never returned? She blinked back tears wishing she’d ended on a happier note with Asaph. She suddenly felt more alone now than she had ever done in her entire life.

‘Everything except the organic physical body is destroyed upon entry into the Storm Holt,’ Averen said. His soft voice was trying to be reassuring. ‘We tend to leave our clothes at the entrance for when we return. But don’t worry, you will go alone.’ He grinned.

Issa forced a relieved smile. At least she wouldn’t have to be naked in front of these men. Doubt gnawed at her mind, fear clenched her belly. The Storm Holt was sounding more and more ominous.
 

It was the test of tests, but if Luren and Coronos could pass, two novice wizards who had nowhere near the level of control of the Flow as she had, then surely she could. She tried to console herself with positive thoughts. She licked her dry lips.

‘We visited the place where the Storm Holt gate is before you arrived. The Storm Holt is ready and waiting, as it always has been,’ Freydel said quietly, his face was pale and serious. ‘There’s nothing anyone can say or do to help you prepare for what is to come, and it’s better they don’t in case you expect something that does not happen. The Reckoning is different for everyone and it depends on what is to be found deep in your soul.’

‘I’m ready, I think,’ she lied. She could never be ready, but there was no point hanging around. She clenched her fists and tried to calm her racing heart.
 

Freydel laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘You know you don’t have to do this?’

Issa nodded. ‘I know, but I can think of no good reason not to. And if I did not, for the rest of my days I would always regret it.’ She did not mention the near continuous dreams about demons, white spears, and knights on white horses. If she turned back now they would think her a coward, she would think her a coward. She looked at Domenon and hardened her resolve.

‘That is how it felt for all of us,’ Averen gave a knowing nod. ‘I never want fear to make me live in regret.’ She considered his wise words. As suffocating as fear was, she didn’t want to live in regret either.

She expected them to all begin forming some spell to take her to the gate, but instead Freydel showed her to the stone stairs that wound around the tower leading all the way to the ground far below. She felt sick just looking over the edge.

‘Some have quipped that the surviving the stairs down is the first part of the test,’ Freydel smiled, trying to lift the mood. He murmured a word and a soft ball of light appeared above her head about the size of her fist. ‘The light will guide you. It’s better for us to remain here where we can watch the energy of the Flow more clearly, though none of us can assist you or even reach you after you enter.’

‘How long will it take?’ she asked. The wizards laughed and she felt embarrassed.

‘It takes as long as it takes, sometimes as much as three days,’ Domenon said, his face unreadable.
 

‘Three days?’ she said in a raised voice. ‘Is there food and water down there?’ Again the wizards laughed.
 

‘You’ll be unlikely to need food or water, much like you don’t need such things in a dream, even though you will be physically there. You’ll certainly need such things when you get back for your body will have been depleted and taken to the brink of its tolerance,’ Freydel said.

She nodded, her nerves jittering. Domenon stood beyond the others looking off into the night sky. He had said little this entire meeting. She wondered then why he had not agreed to invite her, it’s not like he had any fondness for her. Maybe one day she would ask him, if she dared to hear the answer.
 

She looked back down the steps. ‘It’ll take a day just to get down there,’ she murmured. Coronos chuckled.

‘We will be here when you return. We’ll be ready to assist you immediately,’ Freydel smiled and gave her a reassuring pat, but the smile did not reach his eyes and for a moment she felt comforted by the only father figure she’d had in her life. Two now, if she included Coronos, she corrected herself. She nodded, and without much ceremony began taking the steps down, the orb leading her on.
 

The steps were narrow and there was no rail to stop her should she fall, so she hugged the wall close. She turned back to look up at the wizards one last time. They were all clustered around the stair top looking down at her, their faces a mix of concern and encouragement. She turned away with a sigh and slowly made her way down.

Now she was alone she wished Ehka was here, but she had not seen him since yesterday. The night was dark and cool, but breezeless. When she reached the grass-covered ground she could hear the night sounds of forest animals. Above her came the high-pitched squeaks of bats, and in the grass insects rattled their chorus. There was not much to see in the dark, and so she let the Freydel’s ball of light guide her and turned inward to her thoughts.

They said the Storm Holt was a gate that leads to the underworlds, the demon worlds. The Murk was the closest and the first. Beyond it was the Pit - and there is where the danger began. Beyond the Pit no one knew, they called it the endless Abyss. They said she would face greater demons in the Pit, and they took all forms to try to destroy your mind and wrestle your soul from you. Was she ready to face demons?
 

She didn’t feel courageous or powerful. She wanted revenge, she wanted to fight Maphraxies, not demons.
The demons had not killed her mother and destroyed her home. The demons had not attacked and slain the karalanths. The demons had not brutalised and murdered Ely and destroyed Celene. She had no quarrel with demons, only that they plagued her mind.

The ball of light lead her along a narrow path into a thick forest of deciduous trees, mainly old chestnuts and oaks. She could tell from the flattened grass that the wizards had recently been here. How strange that they took the risk and chose to keep one gate open to the demon worlds. One gate so that they could descend into hell and test themselves against their adversaries to keep them strong. Why didn’t they guard it day and night? They said the demons couldn’t come through it, only wizards could enter, but it seemed a bit of a risk.

Would she meet her equal in the Storm Holt? How bad would it be in there? It was frustrating no one could tell her what to expect, only that it would show her the deepest parts of herself, and make her overcome them, or not. How could it be any worse than what she had already suffered? She bit her lip, memories of those that had died swam before her.
If I am meant to live I shall live. I’m done with fearing for my life when so many others have lost theirs because of me.
 

She turned a bend and brilliant blue and white light broke through the dense trees. She peered ahead and stepped closer. The hairs on her arms stood up, responding to the static energy that now charged the air, just like it felt when caught in a thunderstorm. She emerged into a clearing and stared ahead. A concentrated oval-shaped light swirled in a circular motion that was slow near the rim and too fast to follow in the centre.
 

‘It’s the same one I saw in the mound,’ Issa whispered aloud, staring in awe at the spinning vortex of energy. A storm of furious light hidden deep in the forest of an unknown and uninhabited island. It was made more impressive and bright by the darkness of the forest.
Blue and white flares tumbled and spun around each other in a whirlpool of storm clouds. The vortex was at least ten feet high and six feet wide, and it remained suspended in the air about a foot off the ground, like a rip or a hole in the fabric of Maioria. And so, she supposed, it was exactly that.

A rip in time and space. No wonder they called it the Storm Holt. She stepped towards it, not wanting it to suck her in like before. For all the violence of the energy storm there was no sound or wind. Actually there was the opposite of sound, a strange deafening silence as if all noise was being sucked into it. Now and then silent lightning flared within it. The Flow between her and the Storm Holt moved erratically and in a wildly unpredictable manner. Fear knotted her belly.
 

‘I have to enter that?’
The first experience in the mound was terrifying enough. She swallowed and looked back the way she had come. Suddenly all her courage dissipated.
She could turn around. She could be a coward…

‘Hallo,’ a small voice came from somewhere in the darkness, making her jumped out of her skin.