“We will stop him,” Farouk said. “Or we will die. Either way, we will do so with our own free will.”
Farouk held out his hand, palm facing downward, in a gesture of brotherhood. Azim clasped it, and the Druaga leader did as well.
For the Dragon
“For the Dragon,” Azim and Farouk repeated.
“Ah yes, the Dragon!” a voice said behind them.
The men of the camp stood in surprise as an old man wandered into their camp. Farouk and Azim both looked to the Druaga leader, seeing him unconcerned. Apparently, he knew the old man.
“Greetings, friend,” Farouk said.
“And to you, Farouk,” The old man replied. “I am Jodocus, Druid of Eirenoch. I am here to help you.”
“Tyrus the Blackhearted approaches Morduin,” Azim said. “We will intercept him before he reaches the city.”
“Ah yes,” Jodocus agreed. “But if you do so, you will die.”
“Tyrus is a dangerous man,” Azim said. “But he is still just a man. The others are just men as well. Defeated men at that.”
Jodocus sat, motioning toward the Druaga leader. “Your friend here can probably sense that Tyrus and his men are more than that. He could feel Tyrus’ presence from several miles away. Tyrus emanates great evil and power. He is just as deadly as the Defilers, if not more so.”
Farouk and Azim looked to each other. The older brother spoke, “Then he has become more powerful than he was before. The Lifegiver must have changed him before he arrived on this island. He was nothing more than a ruthless diplomat with a sword.”
“His nature has indeed changed since you saw him last,” Jodocus confirmed. “I can feel his darkness just as I felt the Defilers. I knew as soon as he stepped foot on the island that he possessed great negative energy. I felt the balance shift as he did so.”
“So how do we fight him and his troops?” Azim asked.
Jodocus went to Azim, placing his hand on the man’s heart. “You, my friend,” he said, “are a warrior at heart. You are a weapons master, deadly with any blade or bow. I will place an enchantment on your weapons. One that will strengthen and empower them.”
The Druid then placed his hand over Farouk’s heart. “Farouk, you are a man of natural energy. You are a warrior as well, but your strength lies in balance and logic. I will give you this medallion, which will protect you and your men from Tyrus’ magic.”
He then pulled a jeweled medallion from his cloak, placing it around Farouk’s neck as the man bent to accept it.
“Azim,” he said, “place your weapons upon the ground.”
The man did as he was told, unsheathing a beautiful gold and steel scimitar and placing it on the ground. He then unstrapped his bow and laid it beside his sword. He stepped back, watching as Jodocus approached and examined the weapons.
“Very impressive,” the Druid remarked. “You have taken very good care of your tools.”
Azim nodded, glancing at Farouk. “A practice I learned from our father.”
The Druid held Azim’s sword in his hands, running his fingers along the blade, his eyes closed in contemplation.
“This weapon has killed many men,” Jodocus said. “But, you have never spilled the blood of the innocent.”
“Something we both learned from our father,” Farouk explained. “He was an honorable warrior. Azim takes after him in every way.”
“A good lesson to learn,” Jodocus said. He then turned the sword downward, plunging it into the ground. The men watched him intently, staring wide-eyed as they waited for him to continue.
Jodocus gripped the pommel tightly, lowering his head to concentrate. Around the blade, the short grasses began to wither, dying off in an ever widening radius. The men could see faint, green wisps of energy flowing toward the blade and disappearing into it as it was charged with the spirit of the Earth itself. When the ritual was finished, Jodocus opened his eyes, drawing the blade from the ground and holding the sword up for all to see.
The scimitar, still just as beautiful as before, now gleamed with the life force of the Earth. Jodocus proudly offered the weapon to Azim, who took it graciously. The feel of the sword was even more perfect than before, being absolutely balanced and somewhat lighter. Azim nodded in thanks, returning the blade to its sheath.
Jodocus then picked up the bow, feeling its smooth, ivory surface. He then gripped the bow, bending it in his hands, and forcing his innate powers of nature into its depths. The string began to glow red, and the carvings along the bow’s length took on a golden shimmer. When the glowing subsided, he again opened his eyes and handed the weapon to Azim.
“Your bow now holds the power of fire,” the Druid said. “Any arrow knocked within this bow will impart the destructive power of flame on its target. Use this power wisely—you’re in a forest, after all.”
Azim laughed, taking the bow from Jodocus. “Thank you, my friend,” he said. “We are in your debt.”
“I am here to maintain the balance,” Jodocus said. “That is why I was created. And that is why I help you now. The Jindala and their allies cause imbalance, and my gifts to you are to help restore it.”
“Why have you chosen us?” Farouk asked. “We were once the enemy.”
“The Dragon’s power has broken the Lifegiver’s hold upon you,” Jodocus explained. “That is what brought the Druaga to you, and myself as well. You were meant to be here, you and your men, and for a reason.”
“What reason is that?” Azim asked.
Jodocus smiled widely. “When the time is right,” he said, “you will know.”
The men said nothing, but looked to one another for support. Their fates were now entwined with Eirenoch, and the Dragon himself, and they now felt a new sense of purpose. It seemed that Imbra, powerless to guide them, had sent them here to find a new home, and a new life. It was a life that they were willing to die for.
“Goodbye, my friends,” Jodocus said, sensing their thoughts. “I have faith in your abilities. Destroy Tyrus and set your sights to a better life for yourselves and your people. I cannot interfere directly, as much as I would like to. But the Druaga are vicious little bastards in battle. You’ll see.”
With that, the Druid faded from sight, leaving the men to their fate.
“We have defeated one army of Jindala,” Garret announced. “But they will return. Those who escaped will regroup, possibly with more armies from the south, or from the sea.”
“Their fleet has been destroyed,” Eamon reminded him. “Erenoth saw to that himself.”
Attention turned to the Priest, who paced the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. “I have ensured that the fleet was completely disabled, but as Garret said, armies from the South may march upon us. If so, the city of Kernow may be their first target.”
The Queen interjected. “They are defenseless.” She lamented. “As they are so close to Morduin, they have no troops of their own. If they foresaw an attack, they would flee, and come here.”
“Kernow is filled with willing and able men,” Garret said. “We need more troops to defend a full force attack. Despite Ulrich and his warriors joining us, I fear the Jindala inhabit the South in great numbers. Their armies would overpower us.”
Eamon slammed his fist onto the table, startling everyone in the war room. “We need to protect the border and the coast. Once they are secure, we can take the battle to the Southern Kingdom itself.”
The Knights voiced their agreement, each eager to engage the enemy once more.
“It would make sense, however,” Ulrich said, “to ensure that the North is completely rid of these devils. The other tribes are with us, but they choose to remain at the North Shore. I can convince them to patrol the countryside and ensure the Kingdom is safe while we concentrate our efforts southward. They would most likely agree to come as far south as Gallot. Maybe farther.”
Eamon nodded. “That would be helpful. But who would be willing to guard the East coast?”
“The rangers,�
�� Daryth said, quietly. “The rangers would do it. Though they are skilled enough for open battle, their strength lies in stealth. They would be beneficial along the coast, guarding the cliffs. There are only a few places along the sands to ascend onto the main land. Those passes could be guarded.”
“If they had been guarded in the first place,” Ulrich said, “the Jindala would never have infiltrated the country.”
Wrothgaar clapped his hand over his face, expecting retaliation from the Queen. When he looked between his fingers, he saw her silent with her head lowered.
“You are right, my friend,” she said to Ulrich. “I have been too confident thinking that no one would ever attack my Kingdom. I have ignored the coast altogether.”
Ulrich leaned forward, taking a swig of ale. “I did not mean to offend,” he said. “What is important is protecting the coast now. Unfortunately, there are no port cities with naval vessels. Not in that area, anyway.”
“Bael is well equipped with war vessels,” the Queen said. “Her ships could patrol the Eastern shore.”
“And I can summon the Priests of Drakkar to guard the West coast,” Erenoth added. “They are willing and able to defend the Kingdom.”
“Very well,” The Queen said. “We have our defenses. All that remains is to build our offensive forces and drive the Jindala from the North Kingdom. Only then can we take the battle to the South.”
“I will scout the South as best I can,” Erenoth said to the Prince, “if you wish.”
“Good,” Eamon replied. “But we still have to meet with the Druaga. I promised them you would return.”
Erenoth nodded. “I will leave immediately.”
Before Eamon could respond, the Priest left the room through the balcony doors, transforming and leaping off into the evening air.
Ulrich eyed the Priest strangely, glancing at his son questioningly.
“I’ll explain later,” Wrothgaar said.
Garret went to the balcony as well, staring out over the city. He looked Eastward, watching as Erenoth flew out of sight. “I have heard of these Druaga,” he said. “Tell me more of them.”
Eamon stood, moving between Garret and the rest. “They are an ancient race of warriors who have served the Dragon since the beginning. Like the Priests, they have tended to the temples, guarded their grounds, and kept the forests safe.”
“The rangers know them well,” Daryth added. “Our order was founded on their principles, and we have taken the responsibility of protecting the forest in their absence. Their numbers have dwindled over the centuries, and we honored them by doing so.”
Ulrich turned to Daryth, saying, “Our people have legends of similar creatures. Small people who hide in plain sight and use trickery to keep humans away from sacred places.”
“The commoners of this land call them the Sidhe,” Siobhan said, pronouncing the word shee. “But I have always believed that the Sidhe are a different race altogether.”
“I don’t know anything of your legends,” Ulrich remarked. “But if these folk are willing to fight, then they are useful, and I will honor them.”
Maedoc finally spoke, addressing the Northman, “Ulrich, your open mindedness in these matters is impressive. In the past, I would have never guessed that your people would be so respectful and accepting of our legends, and our culture.”
“This is your island,” Ulrich said, “and we are guests. It has always been our custom to respect the lands we colonize.”
“Speaking of your people,” Eamon interjected. “Have the Jindala entered your home country?”
“I have not heard from the High King for some time,” Ulrich said. “Once tribes leave the country, he no longer concerns himself with them. But I have no doubt that if the Jindala have crossed our borders, then Cannuck has stood against them.”
“We need more information about the mainland,” Maedoc said. “If this menace is to be defeated, then eventually the battle must be fought there as well. The entire world must unite and attack the Lifegiver at his own temple.”
Siobhan stood. “That is a long time away,” She said. “For now, we must drive them off of our island. I will trust you, Eamon, to lead your Knights to victory. As for me, I must rest. It has been an eventful day. Goodnight, my friends.”
Everyone rose as the Queen exited the chamber, Garret following. All that remained were Maedoc, Ulrich, and the Knights. Eamon sat silent with his fist on his chin, contemplating the next move. Angen finally spoke.
“There are still many Jindala left,” he said. “Those who escaped are probably rallying as we speak. I would suggest we go now and hunt them down.”
The Knights all voiced their agreement, prompting Eamon to stand. “Maedoc,” he said. “Keep watch from your tower. Speak to the Dragon if you are able. If there are more Jindala, we need to know their locations.”
“Yes, my lord,” Maedoc replied.
“Ulrich, will your men remain in Morduin and protect her walls? With the city gates in ruin, we are defenseless.”
“Agreed,” the King said. “My men will gladly keep watch. I will need to stay with them, though, in case they get too rowdy.”
Wrothgaar laughed. “That goes without saying.”
“Good,” Eamon said. “Keep sharp. Knights, we ride.”
Siobhan lounged in her bed as Garret paced the floor with concern. She had told him of the mysterious stranger’s visit, and the magical nature of his appearance. Garret felt the guilt of his absence consume him. How could he have left the Queen defenseless? It was his duty to protect her, but he was not at her side. He would never be able to live with himself if she was ever harmed.
“He didn’t seem hostile toward me.” Siobhan assured him. “He was just offering me the choice to surrender. I rejected it, of course.”
“That’s not the point.” Garret said. “I was not here to protect you. And this man has the power to infiltrate the castle unseen. This is highly disturbing.”
“This must be the same man who confronted my sister. He was very persuasive. Polite and respectful. I could see my sister falling for his trickery. His diplomatic skills are impressive. But I sensed an innate evil within him. He is not just a normal man.”
“Obviously not, since he was able to appear in Maedoc’s study despite the numerous glyphs that protect it from such intrusions.”
Siobhan rose and went to Garret, embracing him tightly. “This man has the power of the Lifegiver.” She said. “It is something we have never dealt with. Maedoc will find the answers. He will learn how to counteract the Lifegiver’s magic. I have faith in him.”
Garret looked at her, leaning in to kiss her. She returned his affection, feeling his love warm her heart. She felt safe in his arms, like nothing in the world could ever harm her. Garret himself felt his heart warm with her embrace. He felt strengthened and more protective than ever before.
He would never allow anyone or anything to harm her. He would die to protect her, not only as her guardian, but as her lover.
“I will never leave your side again.” He said. “My place is here with you. If this man appears again, I will kill him.”
“I have no doubt that you will.”
“My love,” Garret said, “I know you grieve the loss of Fergis. He was a good man, and a good Captain. When the time is right, I say that Brynn can take up his mantle.”
“He is a Knight now,” Siobhan reminded him. “His duty is to serve the throne in that manner. The Mordumarc are no more. Perhaps someday they will be rebuilt. But, for now, our army must stay together. Not be separated into factions.”
Garret nodded, seeing the logic in the Queen’s words. Nevertheless, he knew she would grieve Fergis, and would regret sending him to his death.
“Know this,” Garret said. “Fergis died as he was meant to. He performed his duties, and fought to his last breath. Brynn has told you this. He would have wanted it that way.”
“I know,” Siobhan whispered. “But I will always regret his death.”
Garret embraced her again, holding her close as she wept.
Chapter Sixteen
Farouk and Azim crouched side by side in the tall grass, watching the approach of Tyrus and his men. The rebel company lay in wait behind them, and the Druaga were hidden in the brush ahead. They would take the Sultan and his company by surprise, thinning their ranks with arrows before the Druaga and the foot soldiers were unleashed. With enough luck, and a surprise attack, they could defeat the company without difficulty.
The only concern was Tyrus himself. The Sultan was a master swordsman, possibly outmatching Azim himself, and also wielded the power of the Lifegiver. He would be a worthy opponent, and would undoubtedly kill many of Farouk’s men before he himself fell. If he fell at all. The rebels, however, were fully prepared for that inevitability, and were willing to fight, regardless.
The two men saw the Druaga leader stand and signal Tyrus’ approach. They acknowledged him, relaying the signal to the men behind them. Farouk heard the archers among them draw their bows.
“I can feel the Dragon.” Azim said. “His strength is all around us.”
“I feel it, too,” Farouk replied. “I can feel it in my very soul.”
“Fight well, brother.” Azim said, patting Farouk on the back.
Several minutes passed before they heard the sounds of the company marching ahead below. Azim peered over the grass, seeing the Sultan’s men moving rigidly, as if their very souls had been drained. The Sultan marched behind them, driving them on.
Farouk signaled the archers to fire. He heard the snapping of bow strings and the whoosh of many arrows flying past him, almost level with his head. As the men watched, the arrows struck Tyrus’ men, hitting with audible thunks.
Tyrus’ company immediately scattered, drawing their weapons as their comrades fell. The Sultan himself drew his sword, searching for the unseen enemy.
The Druaga then launched their attack, racing forward at blinding speed and striking unseen. Many Jindala were slain before they were even aware of their presence.
Onyx Dragon (Book 1) Page 16
