Into Oblivion (Book 4)

by Shawn E. Crapo

  “Onward!” Jadhav shouted.

  Below, in the prison courtyard, the bustling of Jindala activity was chaotic and deafening. Jadhav’s group, having acquired bows, lined the walls and took aim.

  Guards dropped like rocks as the arrows rained down on them. Jadhav directed them to fire at the most important targets; those who worked the gates, and those who manned the ballistae.

  “Take them down,” he shouted. “Kill them before they fire their weapons!”

  But it was too late.

  A section of wall was shattered as a huge steel bolt impacted just below the battlement. Men screamed as they were scattered, many of them landing broken and lifeless.

  “Run!” Jadhav shouted, snatching up a bow.

  He looked down at the massive crossbow that had fired, seeing its marksman loading it for another shot. He drew back his bow and took aim, firing his arrow just as the soldier began to crank back the weapon. Jadhav’s arrow caught the man square in the chest, knocking him back into a lifeless heap. Jadhav followed with more arrows, firing on the run as he led his men to the outer stairway.

  It seemed most of his men would escape.

  The priests of Imbra had met up again at the opposite side of the prison. Their ability to blend into the shadows had afforded them more time to free prisoners, as their presence went unseen. Now, they felt the presence of not only a vile darkness, but a divine light as well.

  They entered the courtyard as the battle was taking place, focusing their attention on a cloaked man who dashed among the enemies, taking them out with lightning speed. They watched as he pursued two officers along a sunken channel. Ahead of him, a small bridge crossed the channel, and two more officers were preparing to run across it.

  As the Jindala passed over the dark man, he leaped onto the bridge, landing squarely on the railing. His bow, fired in two successive shots, took out the officers, and then he disappeared into the channel again to continue his pursuit.

  “Impressive,” a priest said to the rest. “I wonder who he is.”

  “It matters not,” another replied. “He is on our side. Let us continue.”

  Garret fired two more shots, hitting the fleeing officers in front of him. He shouldered his bow, then leaped out of the channel onto the main courtyard to enter the battle.

  There seemed to be two factions of prisoners; one working in the melee, the other firing from the walls. Among the melee, were a small group of what Garret perceived to be priests of some kind.

  Ignoring everyone but his enemies, Garret charged into the chaos and joined the battle. He crossed through the combatants, striking quickly and silently. He felled several Jindala before the officers among them realized that he was there. He would focus on these high-ranking soldiers, and leave the common infantrymen to the prisoners.

  He spied a small group of officers directing the battle from behind a line of pikemen. He charged, twirling in the air over the foot soldiers to land in front of his targets. None of the pikemen noticed.

  He rushed the officers, unleashing a side to side charge that ended with a furious thrust at the officer in command. The enemy fell with the single stroke, and Garret spun around to attack the next in line. His back-handed attack was dodged, and the officer countered with a diagonal slash. Garret effortlessly parried, knocking the attacker’s scimitar out of his hand, and then finished him off with a quick double slash.

  As the officer fell, the assassin ducked behind his falling body and leaped into the air to deliver a fatal, downward thrust at the next target. The remaining officer, seeing his colleagues felled by the deadly stranger, fled. Garret made short work of him with his bow.

  Hamal was fascinated by the warrior who seemed to melt in and out of the shadows. He silently prayed to Imbra to give the man strength to aid them in the battle, and began fighting his way toward him.

  The prince’s sword was a fearsome sight to the Jindala. Its glowing blade became brighter the more blood it spilled, and it almost seemed to sing as the skilled Hamal wielded it in his noble cause. The Jindala feared it, as they did the assassin, and Hamal was able to wade through the chaos to lock eyes with the assassin within a few short seconds.

  The mysterious man was quite obviously a warrior of Eirenoch, or possibly the Northlands. His hair was blonde and his eyes the cold blue of Northern skies. Hamal wordlessly acknowledged the man with a nod, and the gesture was returned before the man disappeared into the melee once more.

  And then, the darkness arrived.

  From either side of the courtyard, Jadhav saw the Enkhatar emerge from the dark mist that had rolled in over the walls. They were sentinels of horror; monsters clad in dark flame that licked the air around them. The Raja was horrified at their appearance, and his heart sank as the dark knights began sweeping the embattled prisoners into the air with their brutally-adorned maces.

  The men were knocked out of the way effortlessly, their broken bodies flung in every direction as the massive creatures cut their way to the center. Jadhav ordered his men to fire upon them, but knew that their mundane arrows would be no match for their divine armor.

  Below, he saw Hamal staring up at him. He returned Hamal’s glance, waiting for his orders.

  “Go!” Hamal shouted. “Get the men to the shore!”

  Jadhav nodded, ordering his men over the wall. He was not comfortable fleeing from battle, but saw the logic of Hamal’s command. The prisoners were not equipped to face such dark foes. Any attempt to join in the battle would be met with death.

  Garret felt the darkness before it had arrived, and now stared upon the source. He did not fear the Enkhatar, nor did he pay attention to the fleeing Jindala around him. He remained focused on the dark creature, knowing that Hamal, with his magical sword, would be standing before the other one.

  The prisoners were free now, he knew, and he and this prince were the only warriors capable of sending these horrifying entities back to Hell where they belonged. Smiling, the assassin pointed his saber at the Enkhatar closest to him. The dark knight saw him, knocking the fleeing men away as he barreled toward his target.

  Summoning the will of the Great Mother, Garret prepared for the ultimate battle.

  The priests of Imbra split up again, each group taking positions near Hamal and the dark assassin. The blessings of Imbra were imparted to each, and the priests hoped that they would be helpful.

  Though fully aware of Hamal’s nature, the priests were unsure of the other. He did not emanate the power of any Firstborn. No, he was something more. He was surrounded by the aura of the Great Mother herself; a nature that was unheard of. Never before had the Great Mother imparted her own blessings on a mere mortal.

  This mortal was special.

  Hamal gritted his teeth as the armored creature slowly clanked toward him. He held Mahaguratu out before him, tempting the Enkhatar to gaze upon it. Though it hesitated, the creature stepped forward, growling its rage at the prince’s defiance.

  “Come, darkness,” Hamal beckoned. “Meet your doom.”

  The Enkhatar charged, screeching in fury as it smashed its huge mace downward. Hamal dodged the devastating blow, feeling the air rush against his skin as the weapon impacted the stone on the courtyard. Shards of rock were blasted away and a large crack was left in the stonework.

  Hamal leaped over the mace as the Enkhatar followed up with a backhanded swing. He spun himself around, slicing at the Enkhatar’s weapon hand and catching the armor just below the wrist. Though there was no visible damage, the dark knight howled in pain.

  The wound encouraged the prince, and he doubled his efforts, quickly attacking with alternating diagonal strikes that drove the Enkhatar back. Frustrated, the creature struck again, this time swinging its mace across in wide arc. Hamal ducked, charging forward to roll on the hard stone and between the Enkhatar’s feet. He immediately struck the back of the creature’s knee, delivering another wound that, again, aroused the dark knight’s howls.

  Hamal, confident in his vi
ctory, stepped forward to strike off the Enkhatar’s head. Then, the giant mace came into view. In its rage, the Enkhatar blindly swung behind it, catching Hamal’s sword and knocking it away. Hamal backed up, his eyes wide with horror as the creature stood and turned; its eyes red hot and smoking.

  Suddenly, Hamal was not as confident in his victory.

  Garret poised himself for the Enkhatar’s attack, pulling back his bow and taking aim for the creature’s faceplate. He let loose, watching as the arrow struck squarely in the eye of the Enkhatar’s skull-like helmet.

  The creature hissed and screeched, clasping the shaft in its gauntleted hand. Garret let loose again, this time catching the dark knight in the neck.

  The Enkhatar struck blindly, smashing its mace onto the stone ground. Garret dropped his bow and drew his saber in one motion, spinning in the air and slashing at the Enkhatar’s shoulder as he passed.

  His sword seemed to do little damage, but caused the creature to screech again. As he landed, Garret dodged the Enkhatar’s backhanded counter attack, and rolled forward to slash at the gap in the Enkhatar’s greaves.

  Once again, the dark knight screeched in rage, rearing back to howl into the night air. Garret retrieved his bow, quickly firing two arrows into the Enkhatar’s exposed abdomen. As the creature slowly sank to its knees, Garret felt a rush of Earth energy surge through him. He took up his saber and poised himself for the final blow.

  The Enkhatar met Garret’s gaze as a slow hiss echoed from behind its faceplate. It knew it was doomed.

  “Back to Hell with you,” Garret said.

  The assassin rushed forward, thrusting his saber into the Enkhatar’s mouth. The creature reared back, its arms trembling with the release of the dark energy that drove it. Garret withdrew his blade, stepping back as the Enkhatar’s armor fell away in pieces. Dark tendrils swirled around the defeated foe, striking out in a futile effort to finish the assassin. The black chain mail that covered its body fell away, exposing the withered flesh of the Keynakin warrior inside.

  With last groan of rage, the Enkhatar fell to pieces. Its energy escaped in a dark cloud that hung low over its body and slowly dissolved into the night. Garret sheathed his blade, taking up his bow, and disappeared into the shadows once more.

  Hamal backed away as the seemingly victorious Enkhatar drew his mace back to finish him off. His heart raced, and he held his breath as he struggled to quickly come up with a plan.

  Then, the Enkhatar was knocked off balance by a large chunk of wall that smashed against its helmet. The dark knight was thrown forward, and it scrambled to retain its upright stance. Hamal dove to his blade, taking it up as he rolled into a standing position.

  The Enkhatar recovered, turning to find the source of the massive attack. Gordius stood a ways away, another massive chunk of stone raised above his head. Hamal summoned the strength of Imbra, leaping into the air to pounce on his opponent.

  With a cry to the Firstborn, Hamal drove his sword downward into the Enkhatar’s neck, just beneath the helmet. He went down with the creature, still gripping the sword, and still howling with the fury of the righteous. As the Enkhatar slumped over and began convulsing, Hamal withdrew Mahaguratu and stepped back.

  Gordius hurled his stone, smashing the Enkhatar’s helmet into an unrecognizable wad of black steel. The dark knight pitched forward. Tendrils of dark energy shot from its armor, disappearing into the night sky, leaving the creature a lifeless pile of bone and plate.

  Hamal went to Gordius, who stood still and shaking. The prince saw that the great man was wounded; having been dealt a mortal wound by unknown hands. The man clasped his side, covering the gaping slash that oozed blood profusely.

  “My friend,” Hamal said sympathetically. “You are injured.”

  “Yes,” Gordius replied. “I will not live much longer.”

  “Come with us,” Hamal pleaded. “There are those in my company who can heal you.”

  Gordius sat down on the hard stone, laying back to stare up at the sky.

  “No,” he said. “I am done for. I am free, and I will die that way. I would like to just watch the stars until the darkness takes me.”

  Hamal looked up at the beautiful night sky that glistened with the light of countless orbs. He smiled, nodding his head in understanding.

  “Very well,” he said. “May they welcome you with open arms. Goodbye, friend.”

  “Goodbye, Hamal. Be a wise and just ruler.”

  “I will. I promise you.”

  Jadhav’s company tore through the fleeing Jindala guards outside the prison walls. With their stolen weapons, and the promise of freedom, they made short work of their captors in minutes.

  Jadhav led the charge to the docks, cutting down every Jindala he encountered and pitching their bodies into the sea. His men followed, shouting cries of insurrection as they fought behind them. Ahead, the ships were in sight, and the clear skies gave them hope of lasting freedom.

  “Kill them all!” Jadhav shouted. “Leave none alive. Show them no mercy!”

  The Raja turned as the sound of an explosion was heard behind him. The other groups of prisoners, with the help of the priests of Imbra, had shattered the stone walls, and were pouring through. Among them, leading one of the groups, was a familiar face.

  Vedic!

  Jadhav charged through his men, slashing at the enemies he passed, closing the distance between he and his friend. When Vedic saw him, the first officer laughed out loud into the sky.

  “Captain!” he shouted, running to Jadhav through the chaos.

  “Vedic!” Jadhav howled. “I am happy to see you are still among the living.”

  “And I you,” Vedic replied. “Most of our crew didn’t make it. The others are around. They were not model prisoners, as you can imagine.”

  “Good,” Jadhav laughed. “And Sura?”

  Vedic shook his head. “I do not know, my lord. She escaped the prison ship, but was carried off to the West.”

  “The West?” Jadhav replied. “How?”

  “A porpoise, I think,” Vedic said. “She must have called to it.”

  Jadhav shrugged. “As long as she is alive, that is all that matters. “Come now, we have a battle to fight.”

  Hamal, the priests, and the assembly of prisoners reached the docks as the last of the Jindala were finished off. The prince met Jadhav, nodding his approval, and the two clasped hands.

  “Thank you, friend,” Jadhav said. “On behalf of all us, I thank you.”

  “It was Imbra’s will,” Hamal replied. “He needs you, as we all do. I am pleased to serve our lord.”

  Jadhav smiled, looking around at the ships moored in the harbor.

  “We will need these ships to carry us away,” he said.

  Hamal nodded. “I have another offshore. The priests and I will meet you on the south side of the island. We will take our skiff.”

  “I must get to Eirenoch,” Jadhav said. “I must let Prince Eamon know that I have not fallen.”

  “We will both go,” Hamal replied. “I am commanded to present myself to the new king and offer my sword.”

  “King?” Jadhav repeated, surprised. “Well, that is good news. I can’t wait to congratulate him.”

  “We will congratulate him together.”

  The two nodded in agreement, glancing around at the crowd of men who were preparing the ships to sail. It would be a short journey to the island kingdom, but with the men having been starved and deprived of rest for years on end, none of them was in any condition to man the helm.

  “It would be best for the men to wait until morning,” Hamal said. “But I fear that will give the Jindala time to hunt us down. The Lifegiver will know that the Enkhatar have been destroyed. We must flee immediately.”

  “Right. I will see you in Eirenoch.”

  From the top of the tallest watchtower, Garret observed the departing of the liberated prisoners. He was happy to see them freed, and was glad to have been a part of it. The mysterious
Jindala prison was now empty, and it was now time to lay it to waste.

  The Great Mother had willed it.

  Garret turned to the inside edge of the tower that looked down upon the courtyard. There, the familiar sight of the portal came into being, growing from a single point of light, to a brilliant blue vortex of Earth energy. He propped himself on the edge of the battlements, looking to the sea to ensure that the ships had all departed.

  Then, he looked up at the sky as a blinding flash signaled the arrival of the Great Mother’s weapon. The clouds were blasted away as a huge, shining ball of fire punched a hole through the very sky itself. Garret leaned forward and allowed himself to fall into the portal, disappearing from sight as the fireball smashed into the island.

  When the smoke cleared, and the waves settled, not a trace of the small island was left.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sulemain and six of his Enkhatar sped across the open desert west of the city of Khem, their hellish mounts huffing fire in the blazing heat of the midday sun. The dark lord had spotted a rebel army in the distance making its way toward the temple of Imbra, carrying what he sensed was a precious cargo.

  The artifact in question was yet another item that The Lifegiver desired; the Heart of Imbra. It was a gem that gave its possessor the power to summon the Firstborn himself. If used within the confines of the temple, Sulemain realized, Imbra could be freed and brought to this realm.

  Sulemain could not let that happen.

  He drew his sword, thrusting it before him in a silent command to his dark knights. The six of them hissed in delight, readying their own weapons in anticipation. They would annihilate the rebels, take the gem, and present it to The Lifegiver. But not without destroying their former master first.