Dragons of the Dawn Bringer: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 5 Page 5

  He’d been much brighter of late, Issa thought. Especially since their long discussions on everything that had happened regarding Cirosa. Perhaps it was knowing that she didn’t hate him for falling for the evil seductions of the twisted High Priestess. Just thinking about the woman made her angry and vengeful. Imagining them being intimate with each other made her shiver with cold. But Asaph had been enchanted by her evil magic given to her by Baelthrom. Issa couldn’t blame him for that, she just hoped he was free of her for good.

  The smile on his face now pushed away all thoughts of Cirosa and her own grin broadened even more as she thought about the demons.

  ‘Hah! I just can’t believe we have the demons on our side. I thought they might renege on our deal once they had won back their homeland, but they haven’t.’

  ‘Hmph,’ Asaph frowned. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it. I still can’t bring myself to trust them. I wish I had been with you and Marakon, there in the Murk.’

  ‘I told you not to worry about it. The battle belonged to Marakon and his knights, I merely assisted him. I’ll be honest, I didn’t want to. After all, why should we help demons when Maioria is burning? Well, now it’s obvious. If we hadn’t helped the demons, we would never have made this powerful allegiance. Having demons fighting alongside us could, oddly, be the one thing that wins back Maioria.’

  Asaph stayed silent and mopped up the gravy on his plate with a piece of bread.

  He’d warm to the thought, she was sure. She carried on. ‘What we desperately need is a council of war. It just seems the Feylint Halanoi are functioning alone with only King Navarr truly supporting them. It’s not enough. We need a much bigger order of the Knights of the Raven formed from exceptional soldiers within the Feylint Halanoi—an elite band of the most skilled warriors. We need stronger allegiances between all countries and all races. And the Wizards’ Circle needs to pull together all their students in magic.’

  ‘What are you planning?’ asked Asaph. He had that familiar suspicious look in his eye he always got whenever he thought she was putting her life in danger.

  ‘I don’t know, I’m not a war leader or even a commander, but I think we need to attack, and we need to do it soon and attack hard. I’m sick of being on the defensive all the time. All it says to the enemy is that we are weak.’ She sipped her wine.

  ‘You heard what Marakon said, we’ve been attacking them in the north for years and lost countless soldiers,’ Asaph sighed.

  ‘Not the north,’ Issa shook her head. ‘We just need to hold them off Frayon with a solid wall of defence. There’s no point attacking where they are strong and where their attention is fully focused.’

  Asaph looked at her expectantly. She let go of her breath.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it a lot and, though I’m not sure, I think we should attack enemy-held lands in the south-east.’

  Asaph’s eyes widened.

  ‘Think about it,’ she said, setting down her wine. ‘Remember, the Karalanths are massing in the mountains of Davono and gathering their clans. They want to take back what was once Karalanthia. If we can convince Davono to join them, and the dwarves, and maybe even the Atalanphs, we could invade west Venosia—don’t look at me like that, I’m not crazy. Ambitious, yes. Baelthrom will never suspect it.’

  ‘And how do you propose we even get there?’ Asaph’s voice was sceptical. ‘You would still need the expertise of the Feylint Halanoi. How would you march them across the whole continent?’

  Issa grinned at him. ‘Velistor.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Velistor. With it, we can find and open Maioria’s Transplaneal Gates, as Freydel calls them. If that fails, we’ll try the more numerous demon tunnels. Something has to work.’

  Asaph sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘I only half believe in those gates and I sure as hell don’t like the sound of demon tunnels. It sounds crazy.’

  ‘I know, but we have to try; we have to do something. We only ever defend and look where that has got us. They’re now on Frayon soil and the Uncharted Lands have likely already fallen. We can’t go on like this.

  ‘I’ve already asked the Wizards’ Circle to start searching for the ancient gates. Any texts or folklores they might come across. Yes, it’s a long shot, but I’m tired of fleeing, of living in fear, of losing.’

  ‘Me too,’ Asaph agreed. ‘I want to attack and win as well. If only I could awaken the dragons, I think I could lead them.’ Pain passed across his features and she touched his hand.

  ‘I know you grieve for Faelsun and the Dragon Dream,’ said Issa, noting the second flicker of pain. She dared not admit even to herself how powerful Baelthrom had become since he’d gained the dragon orb. ‘I’m sorry, I wish it hadn’t happened. But that is why we must start counter-attacking. One of their key spies has been removed now, poor Marakon, and we can attack with stealth and surprise. I can think of no other way. We’re all afraid of war but war is upon us. I want revenge, and as poisonous as vengeance might be, I cling to it because it keeps me strong and my resolve firm.’

  Asaph picked up his wine and sat back, his blue eyes beholding her. ‘How and when do we do this?’

  ‘I think we should have a meeting with everyone; the wizards, the seers, Navarr, Marakon, Bokaard, Edarna, the Feylint Halanoi… Everyone. We must form a council of war and propose this plan at the earliest convenience.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about something else too,’ she added. ‘I’ve decided to go to Myrn, probably straight after the council. I’d like it if you came too.’

  ‘Of course!’ He beamed, took her hand and brought it to his lips. ‘I need a holiday, especially with you.’

  With King Navarr’s royal ability to send couriers scurrying in every direction at a moment’s notice, the war council was arranged for the very next morning. The importance of such a meeting was not lost on the king who had so recently seen his kingdom attacked.

  It was with a certain amount of nerves that Issa walked the long, wood-panelled corridor towards the massive, ornately carved doors of the meeting room, her new Dread Dragon boots echoing loudly in the hallway. Her armour and Grast’anth’s sword at her side gave her the confidence she felt she needed to conduct this war meeting.

  Two guards stood to attention before the doors. They were dressed in thick white tights, navy blue tunics and small hats with a single white feather. The polished short swords that were strapped to their waists gleamed, as did their shining black-patent shoes.

  They looked harmless, maybe even silly, but Issa knew they were highly trained soldiers—the king’s own personal guard—and thus his very best. They knew how to use their swords most expertly, the king had proudly informed her, and had at least five other weapons hidden about their bodies.

  Issa took a breath, hoping she was ready for the meeting and knowing she never would be. She had spent hours last night fleshing out her ideas and plans on paper with Asaph, only to rip them up again. She was not a great speaker, nor steeped in the art of warfare. She wasn’t a battle-seasoned commander and couldn’t rally anyone to her call. All she had was a vision and a vague plan of how to get there; attack the enemy, invade their lands. She just couldn’t seem to formulate the right words or find the correct terminology. After a final fit of frustration, she’d given up planning anything and decided to simply speak her thoughts.

  She slowed as she neared the doors. She was late, deliberately so, to make sure everyone had some time to chat amongst themselves before she arrived. The guards bowed slightly and opened the doors. She stepped into the room.

  Sweeping her eyes left and right, she never failed to be awed by the grandeur of Castle Carvon. The rectangular boardroom was larger than her entire house on Little Kammy. Dark wood covered the floors, and the high, white ceiling was decorated with flowers and leaves made cleverly out of plaster. They filled the coving and spiralled inwards to the unlit crystal chandelier that held a hundred candles.

  Decorating the far wall was an impress
ive blue marble-fronted fireplace. Within it, a small fire crackled, taking away the morning chill. To her right, sunlight streamed into the room from windows which reached from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. The heavy, grey velvet curtains were pulled far back to let in as much light as possible.

  Garnet red wallpaper reached to waist height, after which the walls were painted white. Unusually, there was only one picture and one tapestry in the room. The tapestry hung on the wall opposite the fire and as she entered she glanced over her shoulder at it, sparing a moment to marvel at the intricate needlework. It was filled with people, animals and trees, and too complexly detailed to decipher what it depicted with merely a glance.

  The lone picture hung above the fireplace. Gold-painted scrolls framed a life-sized portrait of a man and a woman who looked to be in their fifties. The man was striking with sharp cheekbones and a short white beard flecked with black. He held an intense look that dared anyone to utter a lie in his presence. A firm but just man, Issa judged.

  The woman’s expression was softer, but her blue eyes were equally penetrating. The previous King and Queen of Carvon, she realised, recognising them from the other paintings in the castle. She could see the likeness to King Navarr. The painted couple carefully surveyed those gathered at the meeting.

  She turned her attention to those seated around the long mahogany table dominating the room. They were mostly men, chatting. The wizards Freydel, Drumblodd, Averen, Haelgon, Luren and Domenon were on the left with the king’s chair in the centre, empty. Asaph sat beside the king’s chair and looked rather uncomfortable about it. Marakon sat next to him, followed by Bokaard.

  She caught Marakon’s gaze and suddenly felt terrible for what had happened. Since the night Ehka had pecked out his white eye they had barely talked—mostly because Marakon was too sick and in pain. He gave a half-smile as if sensing her worry and forgiving her just a little.

  He looked stronger now, though his face was pale and his features drawn. Ravaged by guilt and betrayal, no doubt. She had Jarlain to thank for allaying her anger at the man who had betrayed them. The woman who rode the bear had told her how he suffered, and her devotion to Marakon had moved Issa deeply. Whatever the man had done unwittingly through being tricked, all his life he had faithfully served his country and the Free Peoples of Maioria. For that Issa could forgive him. He’d had dark magic woven around him, just like Asaph, and both had suffered terribly.

  She returned his smile then wondered where Jarlain was. She had not returned to Carvon with Marakon. Perhaps she preferred to stay with her beast in the forest. It was unlikely Navarr would host such an animal in his home. Though rumours of a bear rider had spread, Issa doubted that the people of Carvon were ready to let the huge beast wander their streets.

  Beside Bokaard sat two older men in grey military uniform with the Feylint Halanoi tabard over the top. She didn’t know them. Maybe they were Marakon’s superiors. She couldn’t imagine the half-elf having anyone more senior than he was.

  Next to them sat the only other woman in the room; Edarna. The witch’s face was positively mischievous and she winked at Issa. A meow came from somewhere, letting her know Mr Dubbins was present.

  Opposite the king’s chair was an empty seat, to which she walked, feeling everyone’s gaze heavy upon her.

  ‘Greetings, ladies and gentlemen,’ she nodded to them politely and sat down. As soon as she had, the king’s chamberlain entered the room from a side door and all eyes turned to him.

  ‘The King arrives. Please stand.’ The chamberlain bowed stiffly.

  Everyone dutifully stood as King Navarr stalked into the room, a frown of determination on his face.

  ‘Greetings all. Sit, please sit,’ Navarr wafted his hand as if to do away with the aplomb and get on with business.

  His fur-trimmed, red velvet cloak flowed out behind him as he walked. Underneath he wore a cream-coloured suit with medals of honour decorating the left lapel.

  The chamberlain rushed to keep ahead of him and pulled out his chair, only just managing to push it in in time as the king sat down. The chamberlain passed a hand over his forehead.

  ‘Thank you, Sir Kenon. Now then,’ said Navarr, his eyes passing over everyone, instantly forgetting the dismissed chamberlain who silently stepped away. A big grin spread across the King’s face, ‘Let’s talk war.’

  Issa nodded, appreciating the direct manner and coughed to clear her throat. The last thing she wanted was a long, boring meeting where nothing got decided. War was upon them, there was no time to waste. She jumped straight to the point.

  ‘Gentlemen and lady,’ Issa sat straight in her chair as she addressed the assembled party. ‘It is my proposal that we combine armies to create a powerful force and attack West Venosia now while the enemy is least expecting it.’

  Ignoring the murmurs spreading around the table, she pressed on. ‘We must attack hard, fast and as soon as we can. Too long have we spent on defence, allowing the enemy to think we are weak. Even we think we’re weak. But I tell you we are not. We are strong. I see it in the eyes of the ordinary people walking the streets. The heart of our free land has been attacked, and we sure as hell must attack back.’

  ‘Ridiculous. Where will we get the numbers from?’ asked the Feylint Halanoi officer with the monocle. The monocle made one of his eyes twice as big as the other.

  Issa held his gaze steady but Haelgon spoke before she could. ‘I can have a thousand soldiers ready to sail from Atalanph within a week. A thousand more in two weeks. If we all agree to this, of course.’

  The officer took off his monocle and squinted at the wizard.

  ‘I can start moving our soldiers immediately, they are already waiting to join the Feylint Halanoi,’ Drumblodd nodded, emboldened by Haelgon. ‘A couple of hundred at least. More if I don’t send another unit west to join King Navarr’s army.’

  Issa smiled. Already there were two armies waiting to go.

  ‘What about Queen Thora?’ Issa rested her eyes on Domenon.

  The wizard leant forwards. ‘The Queen does not like war being brought near her shores, nor will she enjoy her land filling with foreign armies, but I will speak to her and try to convince her.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Issa nodded. She had expected more resistance from him. The recent attacks really had shaken everyone to the core.

  ‘But how will this ever work?’ asked the other officer, smoothing his thick black moustache between finger and thumb. ‘Nobody knows the terrain nor what horrors might be there. Maybe Baelthrom’s war factories are stationed there. Maybe the Dark Dwarves have their empire lurking beneath the surface. Everything is an unknown and that is ripe for a slaughtering. Attacks like these take months of careful planning.’

  Issa began to realise why the Feylint Halanoi were slow and largely ineffectual. Already her proposal had met with the most resistance from these officers. The resigned look on Marakon’s face told her he felt the same and had attended these meetings more times than he cared to. She felt sorry for him, it certainly was frustrating. Perhaps they had been too long at war and were too tired, their motivation low.

  ‘We don’t have months, we don’t even have weeks,’ said Issa. ‘We could all be slaughtered anywhere, any day. Baelthrom is too powerful now. We have to act and we have to act fast—’

  ‘To act this fast is surely suicide,’ growled the officer with the monocle, shoving it deeper into his fleshy face and squinting at the sheets of paper before him.

  ‘To not act is suicide,’ Issa said quietly.

  She glanced at Marakon. He had not said anything yet and she sorely needed his thoughts on the matter. He leant back on his chair and folded his arms behind his head, waiting for her to say more. Was he trying to get her to be the leader? She clasped her hands on top of the table and looked at them.

  ‘We have an army of Karalanths amassing at Davono’s borders—’

  ‘Karalanths,’ scoffed Luren.

  Freydel shot him a warning look a
nd the young wizard smoothed his face.

  ‘Karalanths,’ Issa repeated, giving the young wizard a hard look. He turned away, colouring. ‘They know the land like no other and they can lead us.’

  ‘They knew the land,’ said Bokaard.

  ‘Yes, but still, there is no one better,’ said Issa. ‘You forget I have those who can help; ravens. If I ask them they will scout the lands unseen looking for places where we can land ships and attack. Regardless, gentlemen, if we ever want to regain the lands we have lost, we must attack. Push them back from Frayon and invade their bases. Let them know that we are strong.’

  Nobody seemed as enthused as she was about the idea. They turned to each other and talked quickly amongst themselves. The wizards looked amicable, the soldiers sceptical. Asaph looked worried. Edarna smiled and nodded at her. Only she seemed impressed and, wearing a big grin, she dunked her biscuit into her teacup. Everyone else had largely ignored their tea.

  Marakon leant forwards on the table.

  ‘She’s right.’ His voice stilled everyone to silence and all eyes looked at the half-elf. ‘Always we defend. Now we must attack. Nothing has worked, what have we to lose?’

  ‘Everything we have left?’ said the officer with the monocle.

  ‘Those are the words of a soldier who is afraid,’ said Marakon. ‘One who fears to lose. Mark my words, ladies and gentlemen; he who dares, wins.’

  Bokaard grinned and smiles spread across many of the wizards’ faces. Issa nodded her thanks to Marakon and he winked.

  ‘It’s a very daring, dangerous, terrifying plan. I think we should do it.’ Marakon’s eye gleamed.

  ‘There is one thing I need,’ said Issa, holding Marakon’s gaze. ‘I need Marakon and all his knights and best soldiers at my side.’

  ‘Done,’ said Marakon slapping the table.

  ‘How on Maioria do you propose to get thousands of soldiers from the north-west coast of Frayon to the south-east coast of Davono?’ said the officer with the moustache. ‘And how can we protect the north, the west, and Carvon?’