Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5) (16 page)

“Hey now!” she scolded. “Get your own.”

Adder grinned, turning to face two wights that clawed their way through the thick brush. He thrust his sword into the dirt and drew his bow, quickly dispatching one with an arrow to the forehead. He then pulled his sword from the ground with his free hand and struck the other creature at knee level. As it fell to the ground, Jhayla impaled it through the heart. She winked and spun away.

“They’re still coming!” another ranger shouted.

Adder dodged a sweeping claw, striking it off with his sword and thrusting his blade upward into the attacker’s gut. “There must be hundreds of them,” he said, withdrawing his blade from the squirming creature. “Spread out and start moving toward the temple!”

As his subordinate nodded, a sudden screech came from the darkness. The rangers froze, allowing the scrambling wights to pass.

“What was that!?” Jhayla shouted from her position a few yards away.

Adder peered into the shadows, ignoring the sounds of his rangers chopping away. His heart raced in anticipation; he had never heard anything so shrill. Surely, that was not a noise that the Enkhatar would make. It was more… insect-like; almost like a thousand cicadas singing in a crescendo that rose to a deafening and frightening level.

“Not good,” he muttered.

“Loose!” Tenegal commanded.

Khalid felt the wind of passing arrows. He ducked, seeing Farouk and the other priests freeze. The emerging wights were riddled with arrows as they burst through the tree line. The missiles landed true, dropping the undead like flies. Khalid raised his swords into the air.

“Dael!” he shouted. “Back to the line!”

Behind him, Khalid heard the Alvar draw their swords. His priests returned, readying their weapons as the wights raced up the hill toward them. The moorcat roared with blood-curdling ferocity, swiping his massive claws at the creatures as they passed.

“Farouk,” Khalid said to his friend. “Show these vile things the sun!”

The druid nodded, raising his staff into the air. A burst of light erupted from his gem, illuminating the shadows with a brilliance that burned like fire. The wights squealed in pain as the magical light pierced their eyes. But still they came, crawling and clawing their way up the gentle slope.

“For the Dragon!” Khalid shouted.

The assembly charged, rushing down the hill toward the undead. Khalid spun his scimitars before him as he met with the dark creatures, taking down two of them immediately. Behind him, he heard Alvar steel slicing the rotting flesh to bits, and the raging shouts of Tenegal. He spun around, thrusting his swords behind him at a lunging wight, seeing the Alvar captain decapitate two creatures in a row. Khalid laughed maniacally as he turned around again to face the onslaught.

The moorcat crossed his path, pouncing on a wight and tearing it apart with its fangs. Khalid laughed as the moorcat reared back and spit the foul-tasting flesh into the air.

“They taste worse than they smell!” the moorcat roared.

Khalid pushed onward, melding with the Alvar warriors. They fought beside him; their deadly blades filling the air with a sickening mist of rotting blood. The high priest, having fought the creatures before, sheathed one blade and took up his icon to cast a ward. He held the symbol of the Dragon in the air, chanting a short prayer to unleash the banishing power of the Firstborn. The icon glowed with a brilliant white light, pulsating in rhythmic bursts. The light frightened the undead, causing them to scatter and cross the paths of the Alvar blades.

“Fear them not!” Khalid shouted. “Don’t let them get away!”

Farouk had also raised his staff into the air, casting spells of his own while fighting with his other hand. His skills as a warrior had not waned at all, Khalid noticed, and the addition of his magic only made him deadlier. He was glad to have the former Jindala captain on his side.

Suddenly, a shrill cry sounded from within the forest. Khalid turned, seeing the rangers emerge with weapons in hand. They fell upon the rear line of wights as they fled. Khalid rushed to their ranks, cutting his way through the writhing undead. He saw Jhayla spinning with her blades, slicing several surrounding wights to ribbons.

“What was that?” Khalid shouted to her.

Jhayla gripped both blades in one hand and drew a dagger, flinging it past Khalid’s head and into a wight behind him.

“Something worse!” she replied, running past him to retrieve her blade.

Khalid crossed his blades at the neck of another attacker, severing the foul head. He knelt to dodge another lunge, chopping off his attacker’s legs at the knee. Jhayla finished it off with a lunge through its back. Just then, Adder came to Khalid, thrusting his blade into an enemy’s gut.

“Something else is coming,” he said, withdrawing his blade. “I haven’t seen the Enkhatar yet.”

Khalid nodded, pulling out his icon once more.

It seemed that the Enkhatar had brought more allies than expected.

Jodocus watched the battle from atop the tower. He was impressed with the Alvar warriors, and how easily they fought alongside Khalid, the priests, and the newly arrived rangers. They were fierce, relentless, and complimentary to the fighting styles of all the human warriors.

The entire force, though small, was a troop to be reckoned with.

Wanting to be a part of the battle, the young druid threw orbs of white flame into the chaos below. They exploded into brilliant showers of tiny stars that burned the skin of the undead. He laughed, childlike, as he watched them scramble away in pain.

He raised his hand once more, preparing another spell, when he saw a cloud of tiny dots in the distance. A large group of creatures had risen above the tree line, and were now headed toward the battle. From this distance, Jodocus could see very little detail, but their intent was obvious.

They would attack from the air.

Shrugging, the druid let his spell fizzle away, watching in awe as the flying creatures quickly came into view. They were insect-like; appearing as humanoid locusts or cicadas—he couldn’t tell which. One thing stood out in his mind, however. Whatever the creatures were, they were not singular. Each one appeared to be constructed of millions of tiny individuals. He could sense perhaps billions of tiny life forms in all; each crying out in the pain of servitude.

He remembered such creatures from his studies; those who were built of the parts—or whole bodies—of other creatures, put together to form a single, enslaved life form. Golem.

“Chitin golems,” he remarked out loud. “Interesting.”

He raised his small staff into the air, summoning a fierce wind to try and dispel them, or at least blow them off course. As the whirlwind came into being, he directed it toward their swarm as it approached the edge of the forest. The fierce winds caught several of them up in its torrent, swirling them around and dashing them against each other. Many of them became disassembled, and the individual insects swarmed away to escape.

He wondered who or what had control of them—if anything.

Below, the assembled warriors were aware of the swarm. Farouk had begun a spell to shield them all from its descent, and a shimmering dome began to spread over them. Alvar troops drew their bows, firing up into the approaching horde of golems. Jodocus frowned when he saw that their arrows did little good. Most of them bounced off harmlessly, and the creatures swooped down to attack.

Farouk’s shield did little good, either.

Jodocus, seeing the creatures only slightly detoured by the magical dome, conjured more starlight bursts. He fired them downward, being careful not to strike his friends. He knocked two golems apart, blasting them into clouds of bug debris. But a few of them broke off their attacks and began to head straight for him. His eyes widened as he saw them fiercely speeding in his direction.

He fired a blast of light, exploding one of them in a burst of brilliant magic, but two of them still came. He raised his staff again, sweeping it in an arc before him as he backed away. Though his magical wave destroyed one of the flying beasts, the other dodged and swooped overhead. Jodocus fell back as it passed, landing on his elbows; his staff bouncing several yards away. The creature descended upon him, grasping his shoulders with its tough, chitinous talons.

Pain shot through him as the sharp claws pierced his skin. He cried out, desperately shouting for help. The creature shrieked as its wings beat the air; the sound stung the young druid’s ears. He felt himself lifted from the top of the tower, and rising high into the night sky.

In his mind, through the haze of pain, he could only think of one thing.

Mama.

Chapter Sixteen

“We should meet the Jindala head on,” Eamon said to the assembled kings.

Jadhav scratched his chin, looking to the others for their thoughts. “Should we not remain here and take up a defensive position?” he suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Cannuck interjected. “We are the invaders. There is no reason to defend this fortress. It is not ours. Besides, the Jindala would know any secret ways in.”

“I agree,” Tregar said. “Defending against a siege is a waste of time. If what Traegus says is true, the Dragon is nearing the center of the Earth, and the other Firstborn are waiting. We must get to Khem.”

Traegus leaned over the table, resting his palms on the edge. The others watched him as he gathered his thoughts. “The army will not need to go to Khem,” he said, finally. “It is abandoned. The entire bulk of the Jindala army is heading this way.”

“Why would the Lifegiver command them to leave the city empty?” Mekembe wondered aloud.

“He does not need them,” Traegus replied. “He never did. Their presence would make no difference to the outcome of this little game.”

“Game?” Cannuck repeated.

Faeraon, who had remained silent, glanced at Eamon. He seemed to know something, Eamon thought. He noticed that the Alvar king had reacted when Traegus had said the word
game.
As Eamon’s eyes met his, Faeraon glanced back at Traegus.

“Faeraon,” Eamon said. “Speak your mind.”

Faeraon sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Traegus speaks not just in metaphors,” he said. “I believe there is a purpose to all of this. A higher purpose.”

“What do you mean?” Cannuck asked.

Faeraon thought for a moment, and then stood. He walked to the fireplace and removed a slender stick that had fallen away from the blaze. He held it up to his mouth and extinguished the small flame that burned at its end with a quick puff of breath. Eamon felt a sense of fear. He did not know why. It seemed that the strange thoughts that had gone through his mind had been shared with the Alvar king somehow. Why else would Faeraon have looked at him so strangely?

The Alvar returned to the table, using the stick to draw a soot diagram. He drew several parallel lines on the table, and then paused.

“There are many universes,” he said. “And they are all lined up side by side like these lines.”

He pointed to one of them, drawing a circle with his stick. “This is my universe,” he said, then, drawing another circle on the next line over, “and this is Earth; this universe.”

He then began drawing circles over the other lines, all at the same point. “All of these worlds—all of these Earths—are one and the same. Those that are on the left of Earth are my world, and all of those before it. They have all been destroyed by this Absu, as you call him; the darkness. On every single world he has destroyed, the inhabitants lost the battle. Gaia lost the battle; always.”

The others remained silent as he continued. Eamon felt the fear grow stronger as his own revelation was beginning to take shape. He felt Traegus’ eyes on him, as if the wizard were watching him work through the concepts to come to the same conclusion.

“Why has Absu traveled through the dimensions from Earth to Earth?” Faeraon asked, rhetorically. “And why has the Creator allowed him to do so?”

“Surely the Creator would stop Absu if he knew,” Mekembe said. “Especially if the darkness was destroying his creation.”

Faeraon stood, folding his arms across his chest. “That is the point,” he said. “That is why Traegus said the word
game.
”

Eamon looked to Traegus again, recalling the brief conversation they had had before. “It is a game,” he said. “One played at our expense.”

Traegus nodded slowly, looking around the room as the kings fell expressionless. “More specifically, at Gaia’s expense, I suspect.”

Jadhav shook his head, chuckling in uncomfortable confusion. “Wait,” he said. “What are you saying? This is insane. Why would the universe play games with sentient life? Why would it allow the suffering that Absu has caused? What test would be worth that?”

Eamon felt the same, knowing that throughout the many worlds there had been an enormous amount of suffering; all caused for a single purpose. But what that purpose was, remained unknown.

“What has Gaia done to deserve this?” Cannuck asked.

Traegus shook his head. “Perhaps she has done nothing,” he said. “Or perhaps her suffering only serves as a test for us; our parallel species across the realms.”

“Humans?” Jadhav asked.

“No,” Faeraon said. “Not just humans. My people suffered as well. Absu destroyed our mother. We failed.”

Eamon felt sympathy for Faeraon as he lowered his head in sorrow. “You have not failed,” he said. “Your people are here; you have survived.”

Faeraon glanced at him, his face resigned and stern. “Only because of Farouk,” he said. “And your graciousness. If not for your actions, Farouk would never have stumbled upon Alvheim. I would have faded away into Limbo as my people had. We would have been lost forever.”

“Perhaps there was a reason you were spared,” Traegus suggested. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to communicate your plight to us.”

“But it was Aeli who found my daughter,” Faeraon replied. “That would have happened whether I was gone or not.”

Traegus nodded. “The rift caused the link to Limbo as it did to your world,” he said. “But the two must be related.”