Dark Moon Rising (The Prophecies of Zanufey) Read online

  ‘I have left it so long…’ Fraya sighed heavily, and for a moment old memories crowded into her mind and she forgot her daughter and the stuffy bedroom she had not left for more than a month.

  For a moment she saw not her daughter’s face but the tear-stained cheeks of a blue robed Seer, long dark brown hair falling from under her soft hood as she intoned a quiet blessing to the gurgling baby, wrapped in thick blankets and held tightly in her arms. The young woman had passed the wriggling bundle to Fraya, quite abruptly so she thought, but it was not without a flicker of pain in those bright green eyes. Pain Fraya would forever wonder at; how hard would it be to give up one’s own daughter, even if it was for the greater good, the highest love. Fraya knew she could not have done it.

  Fraya had taken the bundle and held it close, feeling the warmth of the baby against her heavy breasts, and hoped that her own motherly milk would still flow. A flood of contentment at having a baby once more in her arms filled her being. She had smiled joyfully up at the pale-faced Seer, accepting the responsibilities of motherhood and protectorate but also fearing them.

  ‘I will not fail you, and hope only that I have as much strength and love as you,’ Fraya had said then and the two women embraced each other, the tiny baby squirming between them.

  ‘Ma?’

  Issa’s voice was tinged with worry as it swirled down through the memories. Fraya blinked and felt once again her weak frail body and not without a pang of bitterness. She looked back at the girl, no, she was a woman now, and her long black hair falling straight as a waterfall to her slender waist, darker than her mother’s. Perhaps her father had had the dark hair. Yes, Issa was far taller than Fraya had been at that age, as tall as her mother, the Seer in the blue robes.

  ‘You wanted to tell me something?’ Issa smiled eagerly.

  Fraya swallowed back a rising cough, ‘yes, I am sorry, my mind wanders… I feel like I’m ever drifting from this world.’

  ‘It is the tea I gave you earlier, it helps the body relax but the mind to drift,’ Issa explained. There was a determined ring in her voice.

  ‘Remember I told you long ago all about your father?’

  ‘Yes, Ma, I always ask you of him, you know that,’ Issa said, ‘I know he won’t return, that nothing can bring him back, but I am sure you are right, that he was a good man,’ Issa smiled.

  Fraya closed her eyes trying to find the right words. Suddenly it seemed all her strength drained away. As she hesitated, the past began to crowd around her and before she lost her thoughts she spoke simply.

  ‘Everything that I know about your father I told you, except one thing to make the story complete.’ Fraya stopped to swallow, her throat suddenly dry, ‘He was not my lover but another’s and I am not your mother by blood.’

  The bed sunk lower under Issa’s sudden shift in posture. With a pounding heart Fraya watched her daughter struggle, her long fingers slender and delicate as an Elf’s gripped the bed sheets, her chest rose and fell rapidly and her pale face grew paler still so that Fraya was worried she would faint.

  ‘Issy,’ she croaked, her voice suddenly hoarse as her throat constricted, ‘it changes nothing of my love for you. Though I was not your mother by blood you are my daughter by love.’ Talking was positively painful now and Fraya felt the world drift away again.

  Issa released a long held breath and let go of the bed sheets. ‘How can that be?’ She breathed, ‘Surely this is some jest, or perhaps you really are feeling worse today?’ Issa smiled but it faded under Fraya’s weak gaze. ‘I don’t understand, how can this be?’

  ‘It doesn’t change my love for you,’ Fraya repeated, and pulled up the faded rose embroidered blankets, feeling a chill despite the summer warmth. ‘I have been sick for so long now, Issy, I don’t know how much longer I will be here, or be well enough even to speak with you for I feel my mind fading…’ She trailed off and spoke as if to herself, ‘The Seers’ should have come by now. I do not think they received my letters. Perhaps they too have fallen to the Immortal Lord.’ Fraya spoke the last too quietly to be heard.

  ‘No…’ Issa cut her off. ‘It isn’t true… You are just sick right now, but you will be well again.’ Issa stood up off the bed, the sudden movement sent a shooting pain up Fraya’s spine and she winced.

  Issa touched her hand gently, ‘Sorry, Ma. Your body and mind are both weary but you will get better. In fact I shall go to the village. You know how good Tarry’s father is with herbs, he gets the purest and strongest extraction with that new spinner he has. I know you don’t approve of me going to Tar’s house so often but he is a good and honest lad, treats me only with respect. It’s long past dawn and his Pa will be well up by the time I get there, even if I ride Haybear. You will be well again,’ she nodded vigorously but Fraya could see the tears in her daughter’s eyes. ‘I’ll go right away,’ Issa spun towards the door.

  ‘Issa!’ she cried, but the slamming door drowned out her husky voice.

  Fraya closed her eyes, feeling the flutter of her pulse in her temples. Where were the darn Seers? It had been months since she had sent the last message, the fourth one in four years. Worried as she was for Issa’s future and blossoming womanhood, the matter was becoming more urgent, but nothing had she heard and now her strength was failing. Trust in the Goddess was most important, even in these dark times, but it sure was hard, especially when it concerned those you loved most in all the world.

  Had she done the right thing? For months now Fraya had meant to tell Issa about her true mother but it was never the right moment. Yes, Issa had to know the truth. Fraya herself would have wanted to know, and the truth was always better no matter how much it hurt.

  Issa was right, Tarry was a good lad, a young man now. He would do right by her. His was a respected family with modest earnings and plentiful fertile land. He would do her right. No one would really ever be good enough for her Issy but the thought of leaving her alone in this world made her sick to the stomach. And without word from the Seers’ what more could she do? As much as her daughter was different she still needed to make a life for herself.

  Issa had already done well, finding her own niche at the Smithy where she earned a fair sum for tending to sick horses. She always had a way with animals, they trusted her like no other and Little Kammy was awash with the need for a skilled carer of the lame and sick and wounded. Horses were expensive luxuries and Issa somehow knew how to fix them even though she had never had any training; it was a gift for sure.

  It wasn’t just horses that they brought to her now, but donkeys and goats, even dogs and cats. She couldn’t heal them all but she did what she could and their delighted owners paid well. They said Issa had a Healer’s hand so Fraya knew her mother must have been a Healer, what little she knew of Issa’s blood mother. With Farmer Ged helping her out with animal feed and Tarry’s father selling her herbs at a special price, Issa had earned enough to repair their roof before winter, with money left to spare.

  Perhaps a quiet life on Little Kammy was best, it was certainly safer for a young woman. Indeed, had she herself not lived a mostly healthy happy life here until now? Besides, young Tarry even reminded Fraya of her own husband, before he left never to return, before Issa came into her life and her first babe departed to the Great Goddess. The memories crowded into her mind and this time she did not stop them.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Shift

  Issa stumbled out of the house and ran too fast for her thoughts to catch up, her focus absorbed upon not tripping and falling. A dull pounding began in her head and she gasped for air, feeling at once that she was suffocating and that her lungs were full. Her throat hurt and her eyes were filled with tears that sloshed around and blurred her vision as she raced across the garden, the delicate flowers and dancing butterflies all but a blur of yellows and purples and greens.

  She headed toward the field where their horse, Haybear, stood. The chestnut coloured mare watched her breathless approach with ears pricked forwards
lazily chomping a mouthful of rich green grass. Haybear whickered but Issa did not stop, and carried on past the horse and up the hill towards their orchard that was ringed by a low stonewall. Haybear snorted disapprovingly and reached down for another mouthful of summer grass.

  Issa ducked and skittered under the heavy apple-laden bows, jumping over the ripened fruit already fallen upon the ground which she normally would have already collected this morning. The wall dipped lower on the northern part and she scrambled over it and carried on up the treeless hill. She reached the top, her legs burning, and skidded to her knees, uncaring of grass stains on her clean trousers. Dry sobs strangled her as the thoughts caught her up. How can it be? It cannot be! Ma is Ma, she is just sick right now, it makes no sense.

  “I am not your mother…” Issa repeated the words, her voice a hoarse whisper between sobs. They thudded dully in her mind like stones upon hard ground. Why didn’t she tell her sooner? But the voice of logic that she had fought so long to ignore still whispered quietly, ‘Fraya is dying.’

  She couldn’t go to town, the last thing she wanted was to face anyone and besides, what good would Tar’s father’s herbs do? She had already tried everything he had to offer and nothing worked, her mother just got weaker. She had been sick longer than anyone she had ever known, and her body had wasted away from the strain of it. It had come on last winter but even with the warmer weather when it seemed she would get better she got worse than ever before. It was as though something was eating her from within, paused to rest, and then carried on consuming her.

  Issa wiped her eyes and stared blankly out to the glistening ocean. She was not foolish, and refused to let her emotions overtake her for long no matter how strong they were. They were always strong but burned out quickly. She began to reason it through, finding solace in hard logic.

  Her mother was right, for all her heart’s wishes for it not to be so, she knew the older woman, Fraya, her mother or whatever Issa was supposed to call her now, was somehow right. Fraya never lied and deep down Issa knew her love was true. But who then was her real mother? Did she have long dark hair like her own? Fraya’s was thick and blonde, though more grey than fair now, and her eyes were grey-blue. Did her real mother have sea-green eyes too? Issa sighed heavily, who cares about what they looked like anyway.

  She hugged her knees to her chest; her whole life was up for question now. All the safety and happiness she had known had all ended, everything she knew about the world had been turned upside down in a matter of seconds. It was the beginning of summer and all should be well in the warm sunlit world but now it was filled with confusion and unease and something worse, dread. Yes, that was it, dread. Her mother that was not her mother was dying.

  “You are different… not like them…” and it was true and now she did not even know her own mother like the other girls. Issa sunk her chin into her knees trying to crush the sobs shuddering within her stomach as logic melted away and loneliness crowded in. She rolled over, curling up like a child on the soft grass, and pleaded for the world to go away.

  Issa lay like that for a long while trying not to think, drifting somewhere between waking and sleep. The day moved on and grew warmer as the sun reached its zenith. Crows cawed in the distance and seagulls screamed from somewhere nearby.

  The noisy birds and the hot sun forced themselves upon her. It was midweek and likely that Farmer Ged was ploughing his field. She fancied she could hear his toe-curling curses at the seagulls even from here. He was a down to earth man and so was his tongue.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the brilliant green strands of grass dancing in the breeze in front of her face, rich and full of summer life. With a sigh she sat up. The sun was now high in the sky and she shielded her eyes against the brilliance of it.

  ‘Not even a cloud,’ she murmured, staring up at the endless blue, and Woetala, one of Maioria’s two moons, sat full and heavy on the horizon, though hazy and dimmed of its splendour in the daylight. Her shirt was damp and muddy where she had laid on it and her hair dishevelled. She sighed again and stood up, feeling none the better and at a loss as to what to do now.

  It was noon and she was supposed to be at the Smithy. Laron would be wondering where she was. Though she did not work for the Blacksmith she always helped keep his smithy clean in return for the use of his yard and shed. He knew her mother was sick though, he would be thinking she was tending her.

  The breeze picked up, it was always stronger here on the highest point of their holdings on the island of Little Kammy. It was filled with the sweet heady scent of wildflowers and sea salt; she grasped her long hair with one hand to keep it from flicking into her eyes.

  Issa glanced behind her, beyond their fruit-filled orchard of apple trees, stood their small house, its new reddish grey slate roof and tawny brick walls only partially visible amongst the trees. Only she and her mother lived there and sometimes the odd Traveller passing through.

  To the west was the ocean, glimmering brightly in the sunlight, and there was nothing but ocean until you reached the Unchartered Lands, though no one really believed there was such a place. Indeed the fishermen spoke of the End of the World existing hundreds, maybe thousands, of miles to the West.

  Little Kammy was the smallest of the inhabited islands that made up the Isles of Kammy. It sat at the most western edge of the islands that clustered together in the warm turbulent currents of the Fariant Fey, which meant the Warm Flowing Torrent in the Old Tongue.

  To the east, beyond a thick stretch of fast-flowing sea was the larger flatter island of Bigger Kammy, and she fancied she could make out the white speck of a house or two on its shores. Beyond it, though blocked from view stretched six more green islands and finally, far into the distance lay the Main Land, Frayon, though it may as well be a different planet, so far away did Frayon seem.

  Issa longed to visit the Main Land, but the sea passage there was expensive. The ocean currents that swept through the Isles carried warm water from the south straight to the north and circled it west, taking ships away from rather than towards Frayon, making it difficult to sail to such a far away place in a sea that was treacherous at the best of times.

  But like most people on Little Kammy she had never ventured beyond its shores and fewer still had gone beyond the boundaries of the Isles of Kammy. Still, the warm water was nice, particularly in summer in the sheltered coves to the north where she and Tar often swam. And it didn’t stop her from dreaming of visiting Bigger Kammy and the islands and beyond. She and Tar had already made plans to buy a boat, though Ma would never approve, so they kept it secret.

  They were taught the language of the Main Landers in school. Frayonesse was considered the Common Tongue of all the peoples of Known Maioria, or so she had been told. Luckily for the people of Kammy it wasn’t difficult to learn, just like understanding a different dialect and more similar than different anyway. She could more or less understand what was being said without knowing the language, though it was said Main Landers struggled to understand the Islanders lilt.

  Only a few words were completely different or missing; ice was called ‘thain’ in Kammy but called ‘frika’ in Frayonesse. There was no word for snow in Kammy so they used the Frayon word ‘shevin’, but the Islanders had at least a dozen words for ‘Sea’; such as Fey, Farlana, Gonter, Yivin, as well as Ocean and Sea – all depending on what it was doing and what it looked like and which way it flowed. The Main Landers had only two, sea or ocean, all other words being borrowed from other languages.

  They did have lessons in Elvish for a time, but the teacher had to leave to return to the Main Land when her mother fell sick. Though Issa loved the idea and romance of knowing Elvish she was secretly pleased when the teacher left, finding it far too complicated to learn and, with no Elves to speak to ever, completely pointless too.

  Her thoughts about Elves were suddenly cut short as a sudden sharp stab of pain in her head made her gasp and double over. The world under her feet seemed to slide si
deways and there came a great noise like a gale blowing. Then the pain went as swiftly as it had come but everything had changed.

  She was no longer in her own body atop the hill above her orchard. Instead she was flying high above a chain of green islands strewn like a string of emeralds set in an endless shimmering sapphire sea. The wind rushed through her feathers and every gust and drop she countered with a twitch of her wings and a tilt and fan of her tail. She looked to her left at the strange reddish-grey clouds bulging forwards and fear filled her heart. She turned her wings to a keener angle, seeking more speed. The smallest island was at the end of the chain and upon it somewhere in the centre was the one she sought.

  The sharp stab came again but lasted only a second this time. In a blink Issa stood back in her own body swaying for balance upon the hilltop, legs trembling and stomach queasy. She stared about her in shock.

  A shadow swished low overhead and she instinctively ducked from the whoosh and flutter of black feathers. The raven came to a hopping land, his heavy weight hitting the ground with a thud, thick claws scratching for purchase and two black wings stretched out for balance as he stumbled wearily. Sunlight gleamed off slick black feathers, a grey lid snapped across an eye, the blunt head turned and tilted to regard her with his other eye. Issa caught her breath and tried to calm her racing heart.

  ‘It is just a bird,’ she gasped, shoulders slumping in relief though her heart still raced. The raven pitched forward and squawked, and for an instant Issa saw a dark pink tongue, pointed as a dart. ‘My you’re a big one,’ she said, her voice wavering uncertainly. So close was he she could reach down and touch him if she wanted. She had the strangest feeling that the bird was about to speak, but then he cawed, making her jump, and launched himself into the air swooping, fast and graceful, down the path away from the orchard. He landed again and turned to look at her.