“We will return to Morduin and rest,” Eamon said. Then, to the rebel warriors, “We are honored to have you with us. Join us in the city and enjoy our hospitality. Soon, the enemy will return and we must defend our lands.”
The rebels agreed, proud to hear the words our lands. A life of oppression and servitude was no longer their fate. They were free. They had entered this land as enemies, but now, they were home.
The Prophet stood facing the Lifegiver. The divine being sat upon his throne, his form obscured by the bright light that emanated from his body. Around him, wisps and bolts of the Earth’s energy coursed into his body, strengthening and feeding him. It was energy sapped from the Earth’s core, stolen as nourishment for the extra-dimensional creature.
As he looked down at the figure below him, he spoke in whispers.
“What news, Prophet?”
“Master,” the Prophet spoke, her voice trembling with fear. “Tyrus has been killed, and we have lost four defilers in battle.”
The Lifegiver’s light shroud began to change color, fading to bright red as his anger built.
“Who is responsible?” he demanded.
“The Prince of the Northern Kingdom, known as the Onyx Dragon. He and his Knights have destroyed all of the armies in the North.”
“How is this possible?”
“They wield the power of the Dragon,” The Prophet replied. “The Prince has traveled to Dol Drakkar and has been transformed. He carries a weapon of great power, and his Knights command the Dragon’s power as well.”
“And the Sultan?” the Lifegiver asked. “Who killed him?”
“The Onyx Dragon destroyed him with the help of Azim, the Jindala Captain.”
The Lifegiver roared in rage, shaking the interior of his giant pyramid with his wrath. “Traitor!” he hissed. “He will pay!”
“His brother and their men have turned as well,” the Prophet explained. “The Dragon’s presence has negated your influence on them. Their minds were cleared of your magic, and they chose to follow the Dragon. They now see that you are not the true God Imbra.”
The Lifegiver laughed, his booming voice echoing through the chamber. “Then it’s time I reveal to the people my true intentions. The masquerade has gone on long enough.”
“What do you wish me to do, master?”
“Summon the Enkhatar to the pyramid,” he replied. “Have them gather a thousand civilians in the temple. I will bend them to my will and transform them. They will be my elite forces against this Onyx Dragon. I will send Tyrus back to the island. His task is not complete.”
“As you wish, my master.”
“Soon,” the Lifegiver concluded. “It will be your time to prove your worth. Do not fail me.”
The Prophet bowed, fearful of the Lifegiver’s plans. She knew what the Lifegiver would do to the innocent people that would be gathered at the temple. A horrible fate awaited them all. A fate that was even worse than death.
She would not wish such a fate on even her worst enemy.
Khalid had made it across the border into the Southern Kingdom. He was relieved to be out of the North and looked forward to rejoining his allies and getting a good night’s rest. The thought of a plush bed and good wine drove him forward, desperate to reach the nearest occupied city.
Ahead, he could see the banners of a company of Jindala coming over the crest of a hill. Their ranks were impressive, tightly lined up, and marching in perfect unison. They were headed North, most likely to give support for the troops there, and numbered several thousand.
In their front lines, Khalid could see the Immortals, berserker warriors who felt no pain and could fight on with the most serious and crippling of injuries. They, themselves numbered in the hundreds.
The Jindala Sheikh suddenly felt the need to hide. If they spotted him, he would be expected to join. He did not want to march on the Northern Kingdom again. He simply wanted to rest and regain his strength, away from the toils of battle. He was too weary from travel, and his nose was broken. The bastard warrior in Taryn had smashed it to bits, and even after three days of travel, it still throbbed and ached.
Khalid spied a clump of trees nearby, and hid as the Jindala army approached. He hoped that the Sultan was not among them to sense his presence. Tyrus was a cruel man and would never allow him to rest or recuperate. Neither would any other man who outranked him.
As the Jindala army marched by, he crouched as close to the ground as he could, trying hard to stay out sight. The sounds of their boots stomping the ground was deafening. Never before had he seen such a large army of his peers, and their intent was obvious: to lay waste to Morduin as his own army had intended.
Khalid breathed a sigh of relief as they passed without noticing him. Their footfalls faded away as they marched further behind him, and eventually subsided. He would continue on, unabated, and head for the nearest city.
At last he could rest and enjoy the fruits of conquest.
Imbra stirred in torpor. He had heard the Dragon speak to him through his dreams and now began to feel his consciousness return. His brother had given him a small amount of his strength, but could still feel the weight of the Lifegiver’s magic upon him.
Imbra...awaken, my brother.
Imbra opened his eyes, seeing the magical strings of dark energy that bound him like a madman in the Earth. He struggled against them, trying to break their bond, but it was no use. He was still trapped, and powerless.
“Dagda, my brother,” he spoke out loud, calling to the Dragon. “Where are you?”
My power has faded. I lie trapped in the Earth like you, only able to communicate through dreams and visions.
“My children,” Imbra spoke.
Your children are slaves to this new power. Even now they worship him as if he were you. He has them fooled into believing that he is Imbra.
“I must free them,” Imbra said desperately. “They need me.”
There are a great number of them in my lands. I have freed some of them, and they now serve me. Once my lands are free of the Lifegiver’s influence, I will send my son to the mainland. Your children will be saved.
“Who is this Lifegiver?”
Darkness. Void. Nothing.
“Absu.”
Yes.
“We are doomed,” Imbra lamented.
No. We will defeat him. The Firstborn must be reawakened. But I need your help to do so.
“What do you want me to do?”
Call to your child Khalid. He is weak and desperate and may return to you. Tell him to go to Tel Drakkar in the South Kingdom. I will speak to him from my temple there.
“There are no Priests there anymore, my brother. There haven’t been for a thousand years.”
I will heal Khalid and make him the new Priest. He must be purged of his evil. He will serve us once again, but he will not heed my call. Only you can convince him to come. I will give you the strength to commune again.
“I will call to him. And I thank you.”
We will regain our power, and defeat Absu once more. He will return to his prison and we will walk the Earth again.
Imbra closed his eyes again, receiving the power that his brother sent through the core of the Earth. He felt it renew him and bring back some of his strength. He would still be bound within the Earth, but now he could call to his children.
Slowly, Imbra felt a glimmer of hope.
Farouk found Jodocus’ cottage comforting. It was warm and inviting and filled the former Jindala Captain with peace. The Druid had provided him with a room of his own, complete with plants to care for, and a small terrarium of bugs and tiny lizards.
Practice, Jodocus had said, for maintaining the balance. Too many bugs, then the lizards would be overcome. Too few, and the lizards would starve. Water the plants too much, and they will become too dependent. Water them too little, and they will wither and die.
Practice.
Farouk was impressed with the hidden tower as well, having never seen
such intricate stonework in a study. He immediately fell in love with the view from his own personal window; a view that was easily enjoyed by simply looking up from his large desk.
Jodocus had provided him with ample books to study; histories, alchemical recipes, locations of ley lines, etc. Farouk had his work cut out for him, but he was willing to learn this way of life. He loved Eirenoch, and wanted to protect its beauty as best he could. He felt as if he was born to do so.
“Firstly,” Jodocus began, “you must learn to heal your own wounds. We’ll start with herbs, then graduate to using the power of the Dragon itself.”
Jodocus gave him a list of herbs that could be used for healing, and the usual methods for using them. Farouk found the list fascinating, having been around many of the same herbs his whole life, never knowing their healing powers. There was ginseng, which gave energy; horseradish, which cured infections; and so on.
“I had no idea how powerful these common plants were,” Farouk exclaimed, pointing to a beautiful blue flower. “I must have passed this flower a million times in my youth. If I had known it helped a person sleep, then I would have picked it many times.”
“Well, you had no way of knowing, my friend,” Jodocus said. “But you learn new things every day. You will be surprised how simple nature really is. She provides something for every ill, no matter what it may be, and a few things for your enjoyment, as well.”
“What do you mean?” Farouk asked.
“Well,” Jodocus said, “not everything can be serious and utilitarian. Nature provides for your amusement through certain flowers that can make you...happier. But, more of that later. For now, read your books and relax. There is no hurry. You will live a long time, as I have. Not quite as long, mind you, but as a druid, you will be able to sleep for long periods...long, long periods. And since you will wield the power of the Dragon, your life will be extended even longer.”
Farouk smiled, knowing that he would devote his long life to learning—a past time he missed in his military service. He looked forward to every aspect of his new life, and the benefits it would give him.
At last, Farouk had found a purpose.
Khalid dreamed.
He had lain down underneath an outcrop of rock in the woods, finding it the only source of shelter from the drizzle of cold rain. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep quickly, and was now in the depths of a phantasmal vision.
He stood before Imbra, his master. Not the Lifegiver, he realized, but the Imbra he had always imagined as a child. His God sat upon a throne of carved stone, overgrown with desert plants, and crawling with small, pleasant creatures like geckos, bees, and other tiny lizards.
Imbra himself was dressed in golden, flowing robes that accentuated his majesty. He was bearded, with skin the color of Khalid’s own, and wore a crown of gold and rubies. This was the god he had known his whole life, and he felt the love emanating from him.
“Khalid, my child,” Imbra spoke, leaning forward to look closer at his servant, “you have been lost to me as have so many of my children.”
“I have served you as you wished,” Khalid explained, disbelieving his own words.
“No, Khalid. You have served a master that is not I. I have been here in the Earth since you were a young man, trapped by forces beyond my power to overcome. You have done many things in my absence that I find appalling. Things I did not tell you to do.”
“Yes,” Khalid admitted. “I have murdered the innocent, spilled the blood of women and children. But these were your commands, or so I thought.”
“The Lifegiver is evil,” Imbra warned him. “He does not speak for me or any of the other firstborn. He is an outsider who has fooled my children into believing that he is Imbra.”
“I was fooled. Coerced. My weakness allowed it. I know this now.”
“Yes, but now you have the power to break free of this being’s will. You have your own will now. The Dragon has given you the strength to resist. But you must accept that he is the power in this land. Follow him, and your heart can be free.”
“But my life is devoted to you,” Khalid protested. “Or what I thought was you. I don’t know anymore.”
“By serving the Dragon, you serve me as well,” Imbra said, standing to embrace Khalid. The man felt the warmth of his father surround him, and he cried into the soft robes.
“I’m sorry, my father,” Khalid sobbed. “Forgive me.”
“I will always forgive you, Khalid. But your path must change. You travel South to reunite with your fellow soldiers, but you must turn from this path. They are no longer your brothers. Take The Path of the Dragon. I will guide you to his temple, if you trust me.”
Khalid looked up into Imbra’s soft eyes. “Of course I trust you,” he said. “I will do anything to have your forgiveness.”
Imbra smiled. “Good. Your path is clear. You must make up for the evil you have caused and fight against the Lifegiver. But first you must prove yourself worthy of change.”
“How can I do this?” Khalid asked. “What can I do now?”
“There is a small town nearby called Gaellos. The Jindala have occupied it and have murdered many of its people. There are children imprisoned in cages in the town square. Free them, and kill as many Jindala as you can. I will then lead you to Tel Drakkar.”
“You have my word, my father,” Khalid promised.
“Then go, and redeem yourself, my child. Awaken.”
The Knights of the Dragon gathered in Eamon’s chambers, now their meeting hall. Eamon sat at the head of his table, with Wrothgaar, Brynn, and Angen to his right, and Daryth and Azim to his left. Erenoth had left to join the Druaga in their journey home.
“The Jindala have been driven out of the Kingdom,” Eamon began. “But I have the feeling they will confront us to the South near the border. We must assemble our armies along the border and await their arrival. They will most likely come at us full force. If we defeat them, then we can take the battle Southward and liberate the towns one by one.”
“That’s a good plan,” Angen agreed. “But wouldn’t marching directly on the castle be a better idea than freeing individual towns?”
“The towns we liberate will rally with us. They all have willing and able men who can join our ranks. Our armies will become stronger with each victory.”
Angen nodded, turning to the other Knights for their opinions.
“It’s a good idea,” Wrothgaar said. “By the time we reach the castle, we will number many thousands.”
“What of Queen Maebh?” Brynn asked. “From what you say, she is no longer of sound mind. No longer herself. And what of the armies of the South Kingdom? Will they fight with us, or side with the Jindala?”
Angen grunted his agreement. “Queen Maebh’s forces are probably under threat as well,” he said. “They either join the Jindala or die. Men such as hers would most likely choose to join. If they are anything like their Queen, that is.”
“I know many soldiers of the South,” Brynn added. “Some of them are family, or friends. They are just as protective of the island as we are. They will join us.”
“I hope you’re right, Brynn,” Eamon said. “If not, then this will be nothing more than a civil war.”
Azim spoke up finally. “The Jindala are controlled by the Lifegiver,” he said, “and even they can be freed of his influence, as I and my brother were. The power of the Dragon is strong. We felt it as soon as we set foot here.”
“True,” Wrothgaar said. “But from what I gather, you and Farouk and the men who turned with you were always of this mind. The Lifegiver lost his hold on you because of your innate strength and sense of honor. What of the other Jindala? Are there others among who can boast the same strength? The same sense of honor?”
Azim was quiet. He could not think of anyone else who would follow his example.
“The men who turned with you,” Angen said, “were they different from the other Jindala in any way? I mean family, education, anything that would set them ap
art from their peers.”
“No,” Azim replied. “Only Malik was different. His father was murdered in front of him when he was a boy. The rest...I don’t know.”
“Who murdered his father?” Eamon asked.
“Tyrus.”
“Ah,” Eamon sighed. “Too bad he never got to see his father’s murderer put to death.”
“It was long ago,” Azim said, “and Malik was too young to have remembered him.”
“Did you witness this execution?” Daryth asked.
“Yes, and many others. It was these murders that sickened my stomach and caused me to question the will of Imbra, whom I now know was not Imbra. Even if a man was to be executed, Imbra would wish that it was carried out swiftly and painlessly. He is a kind and forgiving master.”
“And the Jindala do not do this?” Eamon asked.
“No, the purpose of their executions is to instill terror and trauma in not only the victim, but whoever witnesses the act.”
“How are they carried out?” Brynn asked.
“By beheading. Not swiftly as I did with Tyrus, but slowly. The other common method being stoning. Buried in the ground up to the elbows, then pelted with stones until they are dead.”
The others winced at the thought.
“I showed Tyrus the mercy he has never shown his victims.”
“That,” Eamon said, “is what makes you an honorable man. That is why I made you a Knight. Even though it was the first time we had ever met, I sensed the honor in you. The Dragon made it so. And I think Jodocus may have influenced that decision as well. In his own way.”
Azim smiled at the thought of the Druid, and how he took Farouk under his wing. “I hope the Druid will show my brother the path for which he was meant,” he said. “Farouk has always been inclined to enjoy the beauty of the land around him. It has always been in his blood.”
“I believe it,” Wrothgaar said. “I don’t think Jodocus would have chosen him otherwise.”
The conversation ended abruptly with a sharp knock on the door.
Onyx Dragon (Book 1) Page 18
