Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5)

by Shawn E. Crapo

  As he looked to the east, he saw his scouts returning with a small group of taller men. He squinted as he looked, still not able to make out much detail, but he felt something strange in the air. It was unmistakable; although unknown.

  Prince Hamal rode up next to him, staring at the group as they neared. Eamon heard him grunt, and looked in his direction. “What is it?” he asked.

  Hamal grinned. “We have more allies, it seems,” he said.

  “Who are they?”

  “Not who; what.”

  Eamon turned back to them curiously, his horse becoming hesitant as he and the kings came closer to the group. He could see that the strangers were dressed in desert garb, and were unusually tall. Their faces were covered, and they carried more weapons than he had ever seen a single person carry. The strange feeling became stronger, and his curiosity was piqued.

  “Alright,” he said. “What are they?”

  Hamal stopped his horse, dismounting. “Come,” he said, prompting Eamon to dismount.

  He followed Hamal to the group, acknowledging Daryth and Azim. “What have you brought?” he asked.

  Hamal bowed low to the strangers. Eamon looked at him in confusion, but saw Azim grin.

  “Welcome, great ones,” Hamal greeted them. He motioned to Eamon as he spoke. “May I present to you the Onyx Dragon; king of Eirenoch and the son of the Dragon Himself.”

  The strangers acknowledged Eamon with a nod, and the tallest of them stepped forward. He was wrapped in desert clothing, and his face was covered. Eamon could sense right away its divine nature. “Greetings, King Eamon,” the stranger said. “I am Shemya, Amir of the janni.”

  “Well met, Shemya,” Eamon greeted him.

  “The janni are djinn of the desert,” Hamal explained. “They have no love for humans, but they hate the Jindala even more.”

  “Then we are allies,” Eamon replied. “And from what our scouts tell us, we need as many as we can get.”

  “The Jindala are closing in on this location,” Shemya warned. “Their numbers are great, and it would seem to be a war that cannot be won.”

  “We have the Firstborn on our side,” Hamal said.

  Shemya nodded. “And they will fight as well. But we have come not as mere warriors. It seems that we were fated to meet.”

  “What do you mean?” Eamon asked.

  The janni held out his hand. Sitting on the palm was a tiny, bright pinpoint of light. Eamon studied it carefully, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. The equations in his mind began to flash again, and he felt a slight wave of dizziness come over him.

  “The puzzle you seek to solve,” Shemya began. “It disturbs you; bewilders you.”

  Eamon nodded. “The equations,” he said. “Yes.”

  “This knowledge I hold in my hand will complete them.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Shemya closed his fist around the light, bringing it close to Eamon’s forehead. The king felt it vibrate against his skin, sending waves of equations into his mind. Suddenly, Shemya quickly opened his fist, pressing the light into Eamon’s forehead.

  A brilliant flash of light appeared in his vision, knocking him down. He propped himself up onto his elbows, opening his eyes as his head spun. Around him, there was nothing but void; black, featureless, but with small pockets of energy that glowed a dim bluish color. Before him stood a being he knew was Shemya, but in his true form. He was tall, blue, and muscular. He wore red silk pants with a gold belt, a golden sash, and a golden turban upon his noble head. His beard was pointed and short, and the thin wispy mustache over his top lips was long and curled at each end. His eyes were deep set and glowed with a pale red color.

  “Now that we have some privacy,” Shemya began, his voice deep and rich like Mekembe’s. “I can take a few moments to explain to you some things I have learned.”

  “Where are we?” Eamon asked, standing.

  Shemya laughed. “We are nowhere,” he said. “And everywhere.”

  Before Eamon’s eyes, Shemya summoned a massive web of strange forces around them. It was a network of purplish strands that stretched as far as the eye could see. Within the web, small pockets of brilliant light swirled and glistened. They were whirlpools; each containing billions of tiny dots of light. Eamon looked at them with awe.

  “This, my friend,” Shemya said, “is the universe. These pools of swirling light are little islands of stars.” He pointed at the nearest whirlpool. “We are in this one.”

  Eamon nodded, not quite understanding; but confident that the djinn would explain. “The sun that you see in the sky is but one of these tiny dots. It is part of a larger group.”

  Shemya then motioned toward the purplish web, waving his arms around him and causing the entire network to shrink to a smaller size. “This,” he said, “is Absu; the great void. His presence throughout all of the universes gives each its shape. It holds everything together, giving it strength and order. This is Absu’s nature. He is nothing but dark matter and dark energy. His matter exists outside of our realm, but is still present in a way. His bulk influences everything we see, but we cannot see him. The matter of which he is made cannot exist in our realm, for it is a combination of matter and its opposite. If it were to leak into our realm, it would annihilate itself; cancel itself out, so to speak. That is why only his energy truly exists here. It is this strange material that is responsible for creating everything we see. In the beginning, a large amount of Absu’s mass entered this empty realm, annihilating itself in a brilliant burst. Only a small amount of true matter remained, as there was more of it than its opposite, and this is what the entire universe is made of.”

  Eamon furrowed his brow. So in destruction, there was creation. He nodded, following along so far. It was an eternal cycle of birth and death.

  “This is the key to Absu’s defeat,” Shemya continued. “And this is the final equation to the spell you have been given. The spell as a whole gives you the power of creation, to a small extent. This Lifegiver is a small pocket of the greater Absu that has traveled through the realms through Gaia’s spirit, always appearing on her world. It is his energy—this dark energy—that is his spirit. Your power, now complete, will allow you to transform this dark energy to dark matter.”

  “Where it will be annihilated,” Eamon guessed.

  Shemya laughed. “Yes,” he said, banishing the vision. “But a small piece of normal matter will remain; just as in the beginning. It is this true matter that you will fight and banish.”

  “Banish how?”

  Shemya floated closer to him, pointing to his pocket where he carried the gem that Jodocus gave him. “Your gem, called a soul gem, is a tool,” he said. “Jodocus told you only what you needed to know at the time he gave it to you. It allows the transfer of energy from one realm to another. It is a gateway. With the power of Theia’s spirit, a small part of which Farouk gave you, a portal can be opened back to Absu’s realm; the great void. You must open this portal using the gem, and then use the spell to transform the Lifegiver into material form.”

  “How do I cast this spell?” Eamon asked.

  “Traegus will assist you in activating the gem,” Shemya replied. “Once this is done, the spell will be cast from within you. You need not do anything but destroy Absu’s material form. The wizard is capable of doing the rest.”

  “What of this annihilation? Will it not destroy everything?”

  Shemya shook his head. “The portal you will open will absorb the energy of the explosion. It will remain open until the battle is won. Then, once the Lifegiver is banished, it will close.”

  Eamon nodded. “What is the Dragon’s part in this?”

  Shemya hovered closer, taking Eamon’s head in his hands and moving his face closer. “You know his part,” he said. “He will sever the link between the Lifegiver and Gaia. Once this is done, Absu will never be able to use her power to travel through the realms again. Gaia, in all of her forms, will be safe forever.”

&
nbsp; “And the Dragon will die.”

  “Yes,” Shemya said, hovering back again. “But like the other Firstborn, he will live on in his children. You and your descendants will carry his power until the end of time.”

  “My descendants?”

  “Yes, Eamon. Your descendants will survive the great sleep. They will travel with Faeraon’s people to his world, where they will remain until the Earth has been healed. Every culture on Earth will be saved this way; Farouk will assist in doing this. Mankind’s knowledge will live on while the Great Mother sleeps, and will be restored when each culture returns to Earth. Every land will have its druid, and Farouk will be their master, their Tehuti. For now, concern yourself only with your people. Allow Faeraon and his kin to remain in Eirenoch until the time comes for them to return to Alvheim. He will allow your people to live there until your descendants are ready to return. Then, Eirenoch will be reborn.”

  Eamon was silent. This knowledge was a lot to absorb. He felt overwhelmed. But, as Shemya had said, he should concern himself only with his own people.

  “It is time to return, Eamon,” Shemya said.

  The djinn reached out to touch Eamon’s forehead once again. Another bright flash of light appeared, and suddenly the world returned. Everything was the same as when he had left. It was as if not even a second had passed. Even Shemya’s palm was still on his forehead. The djinn pulled it back, stepping away as if nothing had happened.

  Eamon looked around at his allies, seeing Traegus smiling knowingly. He knew.

  “Prepare the troops,” Eamon said. “We are ready to march.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aeli gasped in horror as she saw Jodocus lifted away. The boy was in the clutches of the flying creature, and his staff had fallen to the ground. She quickly rushed to retrieve it, following the path of the beast as it attempted to carry him away. She saw that Jodocus was struggling in a feeble attempt to cast a spell, but his arms were useless; clamped against his sides by the creature’s claws.

  Allora was at her side instantly, grasping her arm to keep her from running after him.

  “Stay with the people!” Allora shouted. “Your magic is useless at this distance.”

  Aeli pulled away forcefully, ignoring Allora’s pleas. Her son was in danger, and there was no way she would allow him to be harmed. Despite the fact that the beast was hovering, she knew that sooner or later, it would carry her beloved to his death.

  Putting the boy’s staff into her belt, she raised her own; summoning an orb of energy to fire at the boy’s abductor.

  “Don’t!” Allora shouted, running after her again. “It will drop him! He will fall to his death!”

  Aeli pulled back on her spell, realizing that Allora was right. If the creature was stunned or wounded, it would likely release Jodocus, and he would come crashing to the ground. Someone else would have to help him. Gulping back her tears, she turned to the chaos of the battlefield; hoping that Farouk had seen everything.

  “Let me go!” Jodocus shouted, kicking his legs in an attempt to get free.

  The creature fought back, digging its claws into the boy’s flesh as it hovered and sputtered. Jodocus gritted his teeth in pain, growling with anger as the sharp chitin lacerated his arms. The buzzing of millions of tiny insects tore into his ears, deafening him with their shrill cries, and the sight of their bodies crawling over each other to form the beast’s mass sickened him.

  Which gave him an idea.

  He remembered a spell he had learned in his former life; one that he had used to harmlessly dispel swarms of bees. It was a simple shouting spell that required no gestures, or even a staff, to cast. He struggled to produce the energy in his mind; his concentration constantly being scattered by the pain. He clenched his eyes shut, blocking out the sensations, and formed the equations in his head until the familiar pattern emerged. Then, as the creature began to regain its direction, he released it.

  The ethereal blast came from the boy’s mouth like a clap of thunder. The creature sputtered and spun as the spell stunned its mass of tiny bodies. Hundreds of the filthy insects were scattered away, swarming into the sky as the creature rose higher. Jodocus then felt the claws of another creature tearing into his legs. He looked down to see it glaring at him with its false eyes, hissing its cacophonous cries. Jodocus screamed with the pain; feeling as if the two creatures were attempting to tear him apart.

  Desperate, he attempted to summon the spell again. His small body was unable to release the full force of the spell the first time. It had done little good. He had to try again.

  But now, it seemed, he was doomed.

  Khalid’s blades whistled through the air as he cut the undead to pieces. Around him, the air was clouded with their foul blood, and the shouts and cries of the Alvar echoed throughout the temple grounds. Tenegal and Farouk were at his side, their own blades tearing into the writhing mass of creatures that pushed them toward the tower.

  It seemed hopeless. The tightly packed wights were a wall of rotting flesh that had no end. Even the rangers, who had retreated along with the priests and the Alvar, had begun to fall back even further. They were losing ground, and soon the temple itself would be overrun.

  Time appeared to slow down to Khalid. Through his haze he saw Adder and Jhayla rolling over the backs of the undead, slashing their blades in a desperate attempt to hold them at bay. The two were effective and deadly, and Khalid was glad to have them with him. But, there was nothing he could to help them, he knew. He was separated from them by the stinking, writhing flesh that clawed at him with a terrible ferocity, and by the odd feeling that began to course through his body.

  His rage was growing, and something was happening to him.

  Khalid, my friend, the Dragon spoke in his mind.

  “Dagda…” Khalid murmured as he was splashed with the foul, black blood of the enemy.

  My time is coming soon. But fear not, all will be well.

  “What… is happening to me?”

  Khalid stumbled back, seeing Tenegal’s golden hair flailing through his haze. The Alvar Captain had rushed in front of him; blocking the onslaught of undead and keeping them at bay with a deadly barrage of perfect strikes. He felt Tenegal’s hand push him back, and saw Farouk’s face in front of his own as his vision swam.

  You are complete, Khalid. Let my blood be your strength.

  Suddenly, Khalid felt a burning in the pit of his stomach. The pain was unbearable; twisting and tearing his gut like a spear being thrust through him. He cried out to Farouk, who steadied him as the bile began to rise in his throat.

  “Let the Dragon come!” he heard Farouk shout. His voice was deep and dragging; as if he, too, was moving in slow motion.

  As the pain peaked in an agonizing burst, Khalid reared back his head to release the massive wave of burning vomit that shot up his throat. What came forth was unexpected.

  It was fire.

  Khalid belched a massive jet of flame into the air. His voice deepened into a roar that drew the attention of all of his allies, and even the wights seemed to back away in fear. Above, the swarm of giant constructs buzzed away from their prey, fleeing the wrath of the Dragon.

  Khalid fell to his knees as the pain shot through his limbs. His fingers burned and twisted painfully as they elongated into claws; the skin between them stretching into wings. He looked at them in horror, gasping at the sight of his skin becoming black and scaled.

  He was transforming.

  “Khalid!” Farouk shouted. “Don’t fight it. Become what you were meant to be! You are the Master of Tel Drakkar!”

  The druid turned back to the battle, blasting the writhing wights with fire as he kept an eye on Khalid. He dashed past Tenegal, slicing an attacking wight in half. With his staff he released a wave of energy; blasting the undead with a force that blew several of them apart. He laughed maniacally, releasing his wrath as he protected Khalid.

  The priest then let loose a roar that shook the temple. Farouk turned, see
ing Khalid leap into the air to flap his new wings. He was in full dragon form, but struggled to get airborne as he adjusted to his new body. He appeared much like Erenoth, with horns that lined his back and crowned his head. Long fangs glistened in the moonlight, and the fire in his eyes burned through the darkness around him.

  Farouk grinned as Khalid landed back on the ground and bared his teeth. The priest looked at him, almost seeming to smile, then released a jet of flame across the battlefield. The Alvar retreated as the incinerating cloud engulfed the undead. The dragon then charged, tearing into their ranks as the Alvar and the rangers riddled the fleeing wights with arrows.

  It seemed the battle had turned in their favor.

  “Fall back!” Farouk shouted. “Give the dragon room! Return to the temple grounds!”

  As the allies gathered themselves, Khalid leaped into the air again. This time, his wings were stronger, and he rose over the ranks of charging wights to blast them with jets of flame. The undead scattered, allowing the allies to race up the hill to safety. Farouk urged the Alvar past him, staying behind to ensure his friends made it to safety. The rangers soon followed, and Adder gave him a nod as he passed.

  “Get to the center of town,” Farouk said. “Help Aeli and Allora fight off the flying creatures.”

  Adder and Jhayla followed the others up the hill, directing their troops to the proper position. Farouk glanced up, having seen bright flashes of light erupting from a cluster of the flying creatures. He knew exactly what was happening.

  Jodocus was in trouble.

  “Wretched things!” Jodocus cursed, flailing his legs to get free.

  Three fliers were now swarming around him, taking turns attacking him with their claws. He repeatedly cast his minor dissipation spells, hoping to fluster them enough to give up; but to no avail. His abductor dropped, sailing over the heads of the rushing warriors below. The other fliers followed, pecking at him and screeching with their unearthly voices.