Titus rounded the mouth of the bay as he scanned the sea for any sign of the Jindala ships. With his magically enhanced vision, he would be able to spot them with no trouble, even through their cloaking spells. He would then report back to his new master, and await further orders.
From the line of archers that he had passed on his way along the coast, the mechanical dragon surmised the plan of action; the archers, who were prepared to fire a volley of incendiary arrows, would set fire to the ships as they passed. Then, when the ships approached the docks, the makeshift catapult would be used to finish them off. Any enemies who managed to reach the docks would be dealt with by the assembled militia.
When he had reached a good distance from his allies, Titus summoned his own cloaking power, forming a shield around himself that would blend him in with the sky. He was now invisible as he soared above the shore.
Ahead, Titus saw a shimmering green mist that signaled the presence of the Jindala. He dove in for a closer look, sharpening his eyes to see through the magical cloak. He counted four ships, their decks overloaded with enemy soldiers that were likewise armed with bows. He circled the fleet, keeping a distance from the summoners who maintained the cloaking magic, and noted the rowboats that lined the outsides of the ships.
With one final pass, the dragon swooped around and headed back to Bray to report. The Onyx Dragon and his knights should have no trouble dealing with the enemies. Titus would contribute to the battle as well, using his own flaming breath to down their vessels.
It would be a good fight.
Daryth saw the metallic dragon pass and swoop close to let loose a growl of warning. The Ranger knight turned and signaled Eamon with a raised fist. Eamon returned the signal, prompting the archers to stand ready.
“Get ready, men!” Daryth ordered them. Brynn and Azim repeated the order down the line. The archers crouched, knocking arrows and awaiting the order to draw.
Titus landed near Eamon, folding his leathery wings and approaching his master.
Four ships. Fifty men and a summoner aboard each.
“Well done,” Eamon said. “Thank you. Be ready and try to take down the summoners any way you can.”
Titus bowed, sailing off into the air once more.
Within minutes, the shimmering green mist came into view. The sea was distorted by its magic, like heat waves coming off of black rocks. The wake of the ships was visible, but distorted to the point of simply looking like frothy waves.
The ships sailed silently into the bay, making the turn around the cliffs and heading straight for the docks. Daryth watched as the last ship came near, keeping his eye on Eamon for the signal. The Prince opened his hand.
“Ready men!” Daryth called. Azim and Brynn repeated the command. The entire line of archers dipped their arrows in the burning censors, and drew their bows, kneeling at the ready. When the first ship approached the lagoon, Eamon clenched his fist.
“Fire!” Daryth ordered.
Streaks of flame sailed through the air as the rain of fiery arrows was launched. The Jindala aboard ship watched in horror as the flames arced down.
“Titus!” Eamon shouted. “Attack!”
The metallic dragon soared into the air, letting loose a growl that shook the docks. Titus sped toward the nearest ship, dodging the flaming arrows that streaked down from the cliff tops. With a swooping dive, the dragon let loose a jet of flame that engulfed the mast of the ship. Men aboard scurried about, rushing to put out the flames and dodge the hundreds of arrows at the same time.
As the arrows struck, their coated tips exploded, spreading the inferno across the decks and impaling the desperate enemies. Titus circled around for another attack, this time firing balls of flame that burst at impact. Though engulfed, the ship sailed on, approaching the designated catapult target area.
“Wrothgaar!” Eamon called to the Northman. “Ready the catapult!”
The Northman pulled on the crank, straining and grunting with the effort. The catapult’s mast bent back, carrying the basket to Angen’s level. The older man hefted a powder keg, ready to load the weapon with its fiery ammo.
The lead ship continued its approach, her crew struggling to douse the flames that threatened to sink her. Being quite a distance from shore, the depth of the sea was still well above wading level.
Angen dropped the keg into the basket as it reached his platform, then grabbed his torch and set the cask itself aflame. The tar that had been rubbed on its side went up quickly, burning steadily as the three men waited for the right moment.
“Hold,” Eamon called, keeping his hand parallel to the ground.
The archers on the cliffs continued their barrage, sending volley after volley of flaming death to the ships below. Every vessel was aflame by now, and all of the Jindala were panicked and off guard. Some began to jump overboard, desperate to escape the flames. Brynn and Azim shot at them from their vantage points, killing dozens as they swam to shore.
“Fire!” Eamon commanded.
Wrothgaar let go of the crank, stepping back as it quickly unwound. The shaft sprang up as it straightened, hurling the powder keg into the air in a high arc. A tail of sparkling powder trailed behind it as it soared toward the front ship. The knights watched with anticipation, crossing their fingers as the barrel plummeted toward its target.
The keg impacted the bough of the ship, exploding into a huge fireball. The Jindala on deck were thrown back with the force, some of them blown to pieces and or thrown overboard in flames.
The allies cheered. They had struck a crippling blow, and their victory seemed assured. With renewed confidence, they continued their relentless barrage.
“Again!” Eamon called.
Once again, the catapult was loaded and fired. The second shot hit the center of the ship’s deck, splintering the hull. The Jindala were decimated, blown apart and into the air. All that remained of the lead ship was the burning skeleton, ruined and floating aimlessly as it slowly slipped beneath the waves.
The remaining three ships were aflame at various places on their decks. The Jindala were now firing back, their own arrows flying in futile attacks at unseen targets. Their only visible attacker was Titus, who weaved in and out of the line of ships, sending his fiery breath along the decks.
The ships began to close in on the shore, their steersman attempting to shield them from the barrage of arrows. The lead ship had disappeared beneath the surface, and the next ship in line sped quickly toward the port to release its rowboats before the catapult could strike again. Titus dove down, incinerating the boats as they were lowered and boarded.
“Reload!” Eamon commanded.
The catapult was drawn back again, and Angen reloaded its basket. Eamon held up his hand, signaling them to hold. He squinted to see the ship in the distance, barely able to make out a black cloaked figure on its bough. He looked to Azim, who was now facing him from his post on the cliffs.
“Summoner!” Azim called.
“Fire!” Eamon commanded.
The catapult sprang into action again, sending its projectile hurdling toward the ship. Eamon watched as it arced downward, aimed to impact right on the ship’s bough. The summoner onboard raised his arms, conjuring a spell that crackled the air around him. A sudden burst of shimmering energy shot from his clawed hands, smashing against the flaming barrel and splintering it in the air. The burst shook the docks, and left the ship unharmed.
“Damn it!” Eamon cursed. “Titus, take him down!”
The dragon turned his attention from the rowboats to the dark figure. He swooped down, preparing his jet of flame. The sorcerer turned to him, awed at the sight of the machine that lived. Titus let loose his flame, scorching the sorcerer and setting his robes on fire. The man flailed and stumbled from the bow, bouncing past his comrades as he fell into the sea below. Titus dove, extending his claws and grasping the man’s shoulders when he resurfaced. The dragon lifted him high into the air and over the rocks at the shore. The summoner struggl
ed to break free, flailing his arms and shouting magical words. Titus headed toward the cliff side at full speed, swooping upward as he released the summoner from his grasp. The man slammed against the rocks, dying instantly as his body was shattered.
The archers cheered as they watched the dark mage tumble to the shore below. Titus flew past them, drawing their attention and encouraging them to continue their barrage. Azim pushed his men on, his moral boosted by the sight of the dragon’s attack. Hundreds of arrows rained down on the remaining ships, dotting their decks with flames. The Jindala ignored the small fires, preparing to board the small boats as the ships approached the bay.
Azim focused on the summoner at the head of the third ship. The man’s dark form seemed twisted and contorted as he cast an unknown spell, drawing swirls of strange energy in the air above him. Azim drew his bow, bringing the summoner into his sights. He let loose, crouching to watch the arrow soar toward its target. A bright burst of energy exploded above the summoner as he finished his spell. From out of nowhere, a man-like figure appeared in the air above him, its devilish features focused on the line of archers. Azim’s arrow met its mark, striking the summoner square in the chest and throwing him back and over the edge of the ship. Though his arrow had met its mark, Azim scowled as he recognized the summoned creature.
Efreet.
“Daryth!” Azim called, knowing that the Ranger was the only one whose bow could harm the Djinn. “Efreet! Concentrate your fire on it.”
Azim shouldered his own bow, rushing to join the Ranger. Brynn also came, his face a mask of concern.
“What is that creature?” he asked, glaring at the flaming, man-shaped entity.
“Efreet,” Azim answered. “A spirit of flame. My bow would only strengthen it. Daryth has the only bow that would be effective. You and I should concentrate on the men. Take out the remaining summoner if you can.”
Brynn nodded, taking a place among the firing archers to take aim at the summoner. Azim rushed away, heading toward the docks to inform Eamon of the creature’s nature.
Daryth drew his bow, his heart racing as he watched the devilish spirit speed toward the wall of archers. Its face was fearsome, like a mask of absolute evil that smiled and laughed as it approached. His bow sang, sending an arrow of green Earth energy streaking toward the entity. It impacted the Efreet in the shoulder, sending the creature into a fit of rage as the life energy singed its flesh. It glared at Daryth, grinning evilly as it changed direction and shot straight toward him.
Brynn rushed to Daryth’s side, his sword poised to defend the Ranger. Daryth’s bow twanged over and over, sending arrows one after another at the charging Efreet.
“Keep firing!” Brynn yelled. “I’ll hold him off.”
At the docks, Eamon saw Azim rushing toward him. The Prince, having given the command to fire the catapult again, called out to him.
“What is it?”
Azim stopped, breathless. “The summoner has brought an Efreet,” he said. “An evil spirit of the desert. My bow is useless against it.”
“Take command of the archers,” Eamon said. “Brynn and Daryth will deal with the creature. Concentrate on sinking the last ship before it reaches the docks. We’ll hold off the Jindala who reach the shore.”
Azim nodded. “Good luck, my friend.”
Wrothgaar watched as the barrel he had just launched smashed into the hull of its target. It exploded with the impact, shattering the ship’s deck and sending her crew overboard. Titus finished off the crippled vessel with a jet of flame as he passed. The ship was done for.
Dozens upon dozens of Jindala were now packed aboard the row boats, preparing for an assault on foot. Eamon rallied the foot soldiers, urging them forward to meet the approaching enemy.
“For Eirenoch!” he yelled. The men of Bray let loose their war cries and charged the docks, pouring over the platforms into the marshes below. The first Jindala to disembark were met by the onslaught before they even reached the shore. Eamon took the lead, cutting them down with fluid sweeps of the Serpent’s Tongue.
On the cliff tops, Azim ran behind the archers, commanding them to continue their relentless barrage of arrows on the remaining ships. His attention was focused on the Efreet, who was now engaged by Daryth and Brynn. As the Ranger backed away and shot arrow after arrow of gleaming green energy at the creature, Brynn stood the ground between them, cutting off the creature’s advance with his magical blade. Azim drew his scimitars, noting the glow that emanated from the sword of Sulemain.
The Efreet appeared demonic as it attacked; red-skinned and wrapped in flame. Its face was a scowled mask with glowing red eyes, chiseled features, a mane of black, swirling hair, and horns that curled forward like a ram’s. Its muscular arms were held aloft as it gathered flame to attack. Brynn and Azim stood side by side, swords poised to defend Daryth as he pummeled the creature with his arrows.
The Efreet cursed and growled as the streaks of green impacted its body. The magical arrows exploded on contact, sending sparks of energy pulsing through it. The Efreet reared back to attack, its claws bared and curled. Its arm arced toward Azim in a blinding slash. Azim ducked and rolled toward the entity, striking from its flank as Brynn also countered. The dual attack threw the Efreet off guard, and both blades sliced through the magical flesh.
The Efreet howled in pain, spinning in fury as it gathered power to cast a spell. A burst of flame exploded from its core, sending the three men back and onto the ground, their hair singed. The Efreet ceased its spin and chuckled, its voice deep and sinister. Daryth drew his bow from the ground, aiming straight for the Efreet’s head. Brynn and Azim rolled onto their feet, crossing their swords to prevent the Efreet from charging the Ranger. Daryth’s bow sang, but the Efreet dashed to the side and streaked around Brynn and Azim, heading straight for him.
“Fool!” it hissed. “Your arrows are mere bee stings.”
Daryth drew back once more, seeing Azim calling on the power of the sword of Sulemain. The blade glowed blue as its magic gathered. Brynn, wide-eyed, backed away. When the glow became blinding, Azim charged. The Efreet turned its attention to the former Jindala captain. Seeing the blade, the creature backed away quickly, its arms flailing in a desperate attempt to cast another spell. Daryth let loose one last time, his aim set dead center on the base of the Efreet’s skull. Azim, howling with rage, hurled the sword of Sulemain at the creature. The blade turned end over end as it flew, ringing loudly with the magic of Imbra. Daryth’s arrow struck the Efreet behind the jaw, the shaft exiting through its left eye. At the same time, Azim’s blade buried itself in the Efreet’s chest, bursting into a blinding flash of light as its magic penetrated the dark entity.
The Efreet screeched with pain, grasping the hilt of Azim’s sword. The knights looked on with fear as the Efreet trembled and shook as its body began to disintegrate.
“Stand back!” Azim warned, nudging Brynn back with his arm.
“What’s happening?” Daryth called, rising to his feet.
“I’m not sure,” Azim replied. “I’ve never killed a Djinn.”
The Efreet began to spin and fly apart. The archers on the cliff turned their attention to the spectacle, dodging the chunks of ethereal flesh that flew their way. With one last curse, the Efreet exploded, sending out a shockwave that knocked every man around it to the ground. Azim’s sword remained in the air, spinning and turning among the cloud of debris and magic. Then, it began to glow once more as the energy around it collapsed into the blade. The shockwave reversed, drawing all of the surrounding material inward.
Azim sat up quickly, scanning the area for the Sword of Sulemain. It stood in place where the Efreet had exploded, sticking in the ground and gleaming with swirling energy. Azim crawled toward the sword, transfixed by the life that seemed to emanate from within its blade. As he reached out to grasp the pommel, he felt the powerful field surrounding it. It tingled as his fingers closed around it, and energized his body. Grasping the sword with both hands
, he pulled it from the ground and held it before him. His gaze remained locked on the blade, and he was impervious to the events around him.
“Azim,” Brynn said, nudging him on the shoulder. Daryth, having returned to his feet, approached as well.
“Azim,” Brynn said again. “Are you alright?”
Slowly, Azim came to his senses, seeing the archers around him staring. Some of them were still engaged in the fight below, sending their arrows down in waves. But, for the most part, the knight had their attention.
“I’m alright,” Azim answered finally. “We should get to the docks. The Jindala are swarming in.”
Brynn nodded. “Men!” he called. “To the docks.”
Eamon stood in the shallows, poised for battle as the Jindala rushed toward him. Wrothgaar and Angen were at his side, and the foot soldiers of Bray stood at their flanks. The Jindala fell one by one as arrows streaked in from the approaching mass of archers. The bodies of the enemy floated atop the bloodied water, becoming obstacles for the attackers.
Above, Titus continued his assault on the ships, crippling the final vessels beyond repair. Their decks and mast were cinders, and their crews had abandoned ship in favor of fighting face to face. The fleet’s destruction was assured, and Titus had served his purpose well.
As the Jindala reached shore, they met with the combined defensive forces. Eamon and his warriors cut them down as they struggled to get to dryer ground. Though at a major disadvantage, the attackers fought fiercely and with more skill than those that had previously occupied the town. They were specialized forces, with black tunics and steel plates, and a voracious appetite for conflict. They growled and snarled like animals as they rushed the forces of Bray.
The Ascent (Book 2) Page 11
