Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5)

by Shawn E. Crapo

  He was the Onyx Dragon.

  The Dragon had never been more proud in his entire existence. He looked upon his son with all the love he could feel; all of the pride that existed within him. His heart ached, knowing he would never see his own son again.

  “Goodbye, Eamon,” he whispered, sadly.

  Finally, he let his guard down. The power of Kingu surged outward in an explosion of rage, tearing his body apart. The huge tendril of dark energy was torn in two, and the massive cloud of destruction spread throughout the empty space above the core. The dark creatures that dwelled there were vaporized, annihilated by the combination of matter and anti-matter.

  What was left of the Dragon fell to the molten surface of the core, disappearing into the fires as it was consumed.

  The Lifegiver’s dark mass was scattered throughout the vault of the Great Pyramid by the sudden surge of power. The dark entity swirled in confusion and rage, feeling the alien presence that had destroyed its link with Gaia. Though he could feel the Dragon, there was something else; something that did not belong here. Somehow, it had assisted the Dragon in his quest. Now, Absu was alone. He no longer had the power of the Great Mother to feed upon. Never before had this occurred; not in the thousands upon thousands of times he had consumed her.

  Absu collected himself once again, reaching out with his dark tendrils to reestablish the connection. There seemed to be nothing to link to anymore, as if his ability to reach into the Great Mother’s spirit had been lost. He could not even feel her presence; only the odd and maddening presence of the alien creature. It was the same alien creature that had seduced Igraina with its own darkness.

  Igraina, he called out.

  But there was no answer. She was gone forever.

  Absu’s mass began to swirl faster, the clouds glowing bright red as his anger grew. He would attempt one last attack on the people of Gaia; one last conjuring.

  One last bearer of destruction.

  The ground shook violently as a blinding burst of light exploded from the distant city of Khem. The battle lost its ferocity for a moment as the combatants paused to shield themselves from the blast. Clouds of sand followed the intense wave of heat, biting into every square inch of exposed skin. Eamon crouched down as it passed around him.

  He stood, taking in the unexpected events. The air was thick with debris, and men all around him staggered; wiping their eyes and choking as they struggled for breath. Eamon spat the grit from his mouth, desperately searching for his knights among the confused warriors. All was as it was in his nightmare, and the sudden sense of loss he felt was terrifying.

  What had happened?

  He pushed through the crowded bodies, seeking out the one person who might know the answer. He found Traegus nearby, staring at the distant horizon; his eyes wide with excitement.

  “What happened?” Eamon asked, grasping the wizard’s shoulder.

  “The Dragon has severed the link!” he shouted.

  Eamon turned his attention to Khem; seeing the dark clouds beginning to dissipate over the Great Pyramid. There was a huge hole in the darkness, it seemed, where the sunlight was beginning to break through. The Dragon had succeeded.

  Suddenly, Eamon realized why he felt such a sense of loss.

  “The Dragon,” he said. “He is gone.”

  Traegus turned to him hesitantly, his eyes saddened. He nodded, pursing his lips. “Yes,” he said, sympathetically. “He is gone. It is time.”

  Sadly, Eamon accepted the loss, knowing full well that the Dragon’s sacrifice had been necessary. He had known all along that in order to defeat the Lifegiver, most of the Firstborn would have to die. The Dragon was no exception. Still, the sense of loss was overpowering; he had never felt so alone in his life. Without any family, other than Maedoc, he was truly on his own.

  “Then let us be done with it,” he said finally.

  The glint of steel caught Eamon’s attention to his left. A Jindala spear came at him, thrust by a concealed enemy. Eamon batted the spear away, spinning to impale the attacker with the Serpent’s tongue. He saw Traegus bash another attacker with his staff, finishing off his opponent with his own sword. He then released a wave of bluish magic in front of him, knocking back a wall of soldiers who had charged to attack. He then turned back to Eamon.

  “I will get us as close to the city as I can,” he said.

  As Traegus prepared his spell, Faeraon appeared from the gloom. He appeared concerned, as if something was not quite right.

  “We must not go without Hamal,” he said as he approached.

  Eamon looked at him curiously. “Why?” he asked.

  “We will need him to enter the city,” Faeraon explained. “His blade is the key to opening the gates.”

  The three turned as the ground suddenly trembled behind them. A dozen Jindala were thrown into the air, bloodied and screaming. The massive form of Imbra roared in triumph; his six arms wielding gleaming scimitars coated in blood. He appeared sinister; blue skinned, dark eyed, and with the face of a demon. He did not look in their direction, but the janni who followed him turned in their direction. Shemya was among them, his blades also bathed in blood.

  “Remember what I told you,” the djinn said. “And be wary of the gates of Khem. They are guarded, and not by men.”

  The djinn turned back to his path, igniting into a pillar of fire as he resumed his attacks upon the Jindala. Imbra, too, burst into a fighting stance, plowing through the dazed enemies with his many blades.

  “He’s right,” Traegus added. “We will seek out Hamal. Titus will find him.”

  The wizard raised his staff into the air, firing a blue fireball that exploded over the battlefield. Eamon and Faeraon guarded him as he waited for the metallic dragon to arrive. Titus appeared shortly thereafter, hovering over Traegus as he instructed him.

  “Find Hamal!” Traegus shouted. “And take us to him!”

  The dragon squawked in obedience, turning in the air and heading off to the east. Eamon and Faeraon followed as Traegus cleared a path with fiery bursts from his staff. The clouds had begun to clear, allowing the sunlight to light the battlefield, and the heat was beginning to build. But they pressed on, eager to find their ally, wherever he may be.

  Hamal’s men had reached the line of immortals and were engaged in a fierce and difficult battle. Though he wielded a sword blessed with the power of Imbra, his soldiers carried mundane weapons that had little immediate effect. Only those who delivered crippling wounds were successful, and Hamal shouted to his troops to aim for their heads or hearts.

  The archers behind him, a mix of nomadic warriors and rebel Jindala, fired between them, striking the golden breastplates or veiled helmets of the immortals. They were successful, bringing down a great number of them to aid the foot soldiers in their efforts. Soon, the immortals dwindled to a single line, and the standard Jindala troops began to fill in the gaps.

  But then, the soldiers in the far flanks were thrown into the air in a violent burst of blood and limbs. Hamal stared wide-eyed as a giant, armored beast appeared in their midst. It was armored like the samurai, and bore a giant katana that glowed with the power of the firstborn. Mahaguratu began to sing, growing in brightness as the ogrish creature came near. This was Yin-Kai, he knew, the Firstborn of the eastern lands.

  A flood of samurai followed the divine creature, pouncing upon the Jindala like shadows. Another among them, a young warrior dressed in bronze armor, led them on skillfully. Hamal was impressed with his ferocity, and when he locked eyes with the young man, he nodded in respect.

  Overhead, the shrill cry of a dragon caught his attention. He looked up to see Traegus’ servant hovering above him, shooting fireballs from its toothed maw. Once the dragon had cleared a space, it landed with a shrill cry. Hamal was pleased to see Traegus push through and stand at the dragon’s side. Eamon and Faeraon appeared as well.

  “The time has come, friend,” Traegus said. “Come with us. We need you.”

  Hamal n
odded. “I am ready,” he said.

  Traegus wove a vortex into the air with his staff, swirling it around in circles until the very air opened up into a rotating portal. Beyond it, Hamal could see the Great Pyramid, and the gated wall that surrounded it. Fires burned everywhere, and the city appeared to be in ruin. Even the top of the pyramid itself was in rubble.

  Eamon and Faeraon disappeared into the vortex. Hamal hesitantly stepped forward, aware of a strange presence on the other side. It was not the Lifegiver himself, but something else; something familiar. But, he knew that it was his duty to assist in destroying the Lifegiver. Hesitation would only cost them the victory. It was now or never.

  Closing his eyes, the rightful king of Khem stepped through.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Tenegal’s injuries were easily healed, Khalid had found. His own prowess with restorative magic coupled with the Alvar’s strong constitution allowed him to completely repair the damage. He left Tenegal to rest within the comfort of the temple, returning to the temple courtyard to meet up with the rest of the defenders.

  The Mordumarc had come to pay tribute, along with their temporary leaders, Ferrin and Galen. Maedoc was still around, studying the corpses of the wights for future reference. Aeli, Allora, Jodocus, and the moorcat had returned, bringing the Alvar and the rangers with them. Khalid looked for his friends, finding Farouk and the newly arrived Torak near the center, speaking with Erenoth.

  Knowing Torak’s true identity, he was loathe to see Allora and Aeli approaching the group. He dreaded the confrontation that would surely occur once Allora recognized who the shaman really was. The man had caused her great suffering many thousands of years ago, and crimes of that nature did not go unpunished.

  Or so he thought.

  As he neared the group, a look of recognition immediately came over the Alvar’s lady’s face. She froze, shocked and speechless. Torak stood strong, but held his head low in shame. Farouk placed his hand on the shaman’s back, encouraging him to step forward.

  Torak slowly approached Allora, falling to one knee in humility. She glared down at him, angry, but more confused than anything.

  “You…” she whispered. Once again, the shaman lowered his head. All fell silent.

  Torak raised his eyes, looking up at her in sorrow. “My lady,” he pleaded. “I have returned to this world to atone for my past. My biggest regret is allowing the darkness to enter this realm, but I will never forgive myself for what I have done to you. I cannot imagine the suffering I have caused you, or your father. In payment of this atrocity, I gladly offer you my head, if you wish it.”

  Allora stood frozen in place. Her expression had not changed, but her body seemed to relax somewhat. Still, Khalid could sense her turmoil. He knew that her nobility would not allow her to chastise him, but he would not blame if she did. Still, some part of him believed that Torak was truly a changed man—if that’s what he was—and Khalid himself had even become a priest after so many of years of dark deeds.

  Slowly, Allora’s expression changed to one of pity. She stepped forward, placing her hand on the shaman’s head. He began to weep.

  “You do not appear as you did before,” she said softly. “You are no longer the monster you were; neither inside nor out. I cannot condemn you for your deeds if you have come to atone. But it is not my forgiveness that is needed. To truly change, you must learn to forgive yourself. Only then will the others, myself included, be able to forgive you.”

  “My lust and greed drove me mad,” he replied. “But I blame my weakness for my deeds. A strong man would have resisted all temptation.”

  Allora smiled. “That is not true,” she said. “Only one without a soul could turn a blind eye to what he feels on the inside. Your sins are those of a mortal creature, though your nature is that of the divine. You were given great gifts, shaman, and those gifts were meant to help the world. Use them to the best of your ability, and I shall honor you for it.”

  Torak lowered his head again, but slowly rose. Their eyes met, and the shaman could barely choke back his tears. Wordlessly, he bowed, stepping away and joining Farouk. Khalid stepped forward to address the Alvar woman.

  “If you can forgive him, so can I,” he said. “He is not the same man I knew.”

  “Nor is he the same man I knew. I can feel a great, benevolent spirit within him; one that has descended from great powers.”

  Khalid nodded. “The Keeper,” he said. “He works in strange ways.”

  “As he always does,” she said, smiling, “on this world and many others.”

  Jodocus went to the rangers who had gathered, his face drawn back in sorrow. He hoped that at least one of them had seen Adder somewhere in the forest, as neither he nor the moorcat were able to find him. He found Lord Ferrin among them, greeting his former students and expressing his pride in their deeds. Jodocus tugged at his cloak, and the nobleman looked down with a smile.

  “Ah, young Jodocus,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Adder is missing, sir,” he said. “I’m afraid Jhayla fell to the wights. She has been lost, and Adder is nowhere to be found.”

  Ferrin’s face darkened with the news. Jodocus knew that Ferrin had loved Jhayla, as well. Whether he grieved for her or worried for his son, Jodocus could not guess. It was likely both.

  “That is grave news,” Ferrin said. “But I may know where he is. I know how close you were to both of them. I promise you, I will find him.”

  Jodocus smiled half-heartedly, knowing that even if Ferrin found his son, it was not likely that he would return. Having already lost Jhayla, losing uncle Adder would be devastating as well. But that was the life of a druid, he reasoned. Loved ones would come and go. Even his mother would leave him someday, and all of his other friends, too. He would have to get used to it.

  “Tell him I said to return someday,” he said, “when he is ready.”

  Ferrin nodded, patting him on the head. He then mounted his horse, giving Jodocus one last look, and rode off into the forest.

  “Jodocus,” came Aeli’s voice behind him. He turned, seeing her smiling, and relieved to see him. She ran to him, kneeling to embrace him. He buried his face in her cloak as she stroked his hair, and her warmth gave him comfort. He cried softly, and she nestled her head against his.

  “This is a great loss for all of us,” she said. “But you must be strong. She died defending her homeland. She will be honored for that.”

  Jodocus raised his head, wiping his eyes. “I know,” he whispered. “But I will miss her, and Adder, too.”

  “I know you will,” she said, kissing him on the forehead. “But he will return someday. And Jhayla will live forever in your heart as long as you remember her.”

  Jodocus smiled. “I will never forget her.”

  “Nor will I,” Aeli said. “Now come. Farouk needs you.”

  Ferrin rode quickly along the wooded trail east of Tel Drakkar. He knew that somewhere, near the mines, he would find his son. From the time he was a child, Adder had often trekked into this area when he needed time to himself, and Ferrin had known of his hiding place for many years.

  His concern growing, Ferrin rode harder, urging his horse faster over the rough ground. His destination was a short way ahead, and there he would find Adder. He hoped that he would still be alive, and had not decided to take his own life. Though Jodocus had not told him, Ferrin knew that Adder had been responsible for ending Jhayla’s life. The guilt he must be feeling would be overwhelming.

  When he emerged from the forest, Ferrin slowed his horse. The rocks ahead, large and jutting, signaled the edge of the cliffs overlooking the valley just west of Faerbane. There, he would find Adder, either leaning on the rocks or sitting on the edge of the cliffs—or perhaps smashed onto the rocks below.

  He leaped off his horse and rounded the largest rock. Adder was there, standing solemnly on the edge of the cliff; one foot resting upon a flat rock. His hair had come loose and was flowing freely in the breeze
; bark brown and streaked with lighter colors. Ferrin had never noticed it before. It had been a long time since Adder had worn it down.

  “Fordran,” he said, calling his son by his real name.

  Adder did not reply, but stood stoically; unmoving.

  “Adder,” he corrected, joining his son on the edge of the cliff. Adder turned his head slightly, keeping his face lowered. Ferrin knew that he was hiding his tears. A lump suddenly rose in his throat, slowly growing in intensity. He stifled his urge to embrace Adder and weep with him. His boy needed him to be strong.

  “Whatever you’re planning,” he said, gazing out over the valley. “Just remember that your king needs you. It is not like the son of a nobleman to shirk his responsibilities.”

  Adder chuckled non-humorously. “I am of no further use to the king,” he said. “Not without my partner. There are others in the guild and the rangers who can take my place. They are just as good as I am.”

  Ferrin grunted. “Perhaps,” he said, “but there are others who have grown quite fond of you; Jodocus, for example. I would wager a guess that there is a reason he calls you uncle.”

  Adder nodded slowly. “He is a druid,” he replied. “He will understand.”

  Ferrin agreed. He couldn’t argue. Though he had not many druids in his life, the ones he had met all had the same characteristic; they were much more accepting of the way things had to be. There was no use trying to persuade Adder to think otherwise. He knew much more about druids than Ferrin did.

  “What will you do?” Ferrin asked.

  Adder straightened, brushing his hair back with his hand. For a moment, he was silent; simply staring off into the rising sun. Then, he turned to face his father at last.