Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5) (18 page)

“What of this annihilation? Will it not destroy everything?”

Shemya shook his head. “The portal you will open will absorb the energy of the explosion. It will remain open until the battle is won. Then, once the Lifegiver is banished, it will close.”

Eamon nodded. “What is the Dragon’s part in this?”

Shemya hovered closer, taking Eamon’s head in his hands and moving his face closer. “You know his part,” he said. “He will sever the link between the Lifegiver and Gaia. Once this is done, Absu will never be able to use her power to travel through the realms again. Gaia, in all of her forms, will be safe forever.”

“And the Dragon will die.”

“Yes,” Shemya said, hovering back again. “But like the other Firstborn, he will live on in his children. You and your descendants will carry his power until the end of time.”

“My descendants?”

“Yes, Eamon. Your descendants will survive the great sleep. They will travel with Faeraon’s people to his world, where they will remain until the Earth has been healed. Every culture on Earth will be saved this way; Farouk will assist in doing this. Mankind’s knowledge will live on while the Great Mother sleeps, and will be restored when each culture returns to Earth. Every land will have its druid, and Farouk will be their master, their
Tehuti.
For now, concern yourself only with your people. Allow Faeraon and his kin to remain in Eirenoch until the time comes for them to return to Alvheim. He will allow your people to live there until your descendants are ready to return. Then, Eirenoch will be reborn.”

Eamon was silent. This knowledge was a lot to absorb. He felt overwhelmed. But, as Shemya had said, he should concern himself only with his own people.

“It is time to return, Eamon,” Shemya said.

The djinn reached out to touch Eamon’s forehead once again. Another bright flash of light appeared, and suddenly the world returned. Everything was the same as when he had left. It was as if not even a second had passed. Even Shemya’s palm was still on his forehead. The djinn pulled it back, stepping away as if nothing had happened.

Eamon looked around at his allies, seeing Traegus smiling knowingly. He knew.

“Prepare the troops,” Eamon said. “We are ready to march.”

Chapter Seventeen

Aeli gasped in horror as she saw Jodocus lifted away. The boy was in the clutches of the flying creature, and his staff had fallen to the ground. She quickly rushed to retrieve it, following the path of the beast as it attempted to carry him away. She saw that Jodocus was struggling in a feeble attempt to cast a spell, but his arms were useless; clamped against his sides by the creature’s claws.

Allora was at her side instantly, grasping her arm to keep her from running after him.

“Stay with the people!” Allora shouted. “Your magic is useless at this distance.”

Aeli pulled away forcefully, ignoring Allora’s pleas. Her son was in danger, and there was no way she would allow him to be harmed. Despite the fact that the beast was hovering, she knew that sooner or later, it would carry her beloved to his death.

Putting the boy’s staff into her belt, she raised her own; summoning an orb of energy to fire at the boy’s abductor.

“Don’t!” Allora shouted, running after her again. “It will drop him! He will fall to his death!”

Aeli pulled back on her spell, realizing that Allora was right. If the creature was stunned or wounded, it would likely release Jodocus, and he would come crashing to the ground. Someone else would have to help him. Gulping back her tears, she turned to the chaos of the battlefield; hoping that Farouk had seen everything.

“Let me go!” Jodocus shouted, kicking his legs in an attempt to get free.

The creature fought back, digging its claws into the boy’s flesh as it hovered and sputtered. Jodocus gritted his teeth in pain, growling with anger as the sharp chitin lacerated his arms. The buzzing of millions of tiny insects tore into his ears, deafening him with their shrill cries, and the sight of their bodies crawling over each other to form the beast’s mass sickened him.

Which gave him an idea.

He remembered a spell he had learned in his former life; one that he had used to harmlessly dispel swarms of bees. It was a simple shouting spell that required no gestures, or even a staff, to cast. He struggled to produce the energy in his mind; his concentration constantly being scattered by the pain. He clenched his eyes shut, blocking out the sensations, and formed the equations in his head until the familiar pattern emerged. Then, as the creature began to regain its direction, he released it.

The ethereal blast came from the boy’s mouth like a clap of thunder. The creature sputtered and spun as the spell stunned its mass of tiny bodies. Hundreds of the filthy insects were scattered away, swarming into the sky as the creature rose higher. Jodocus then felt the claws of another creature tearing into his legs. He looked down to see it glaring at him with its false eyes, hissing its cacophonous cries. Jodocus screamed with the pain; feeling as if the two creatures were attempting to tear him apart.

Desperate, he attempted to summon the spell again. His small body was unable to release the full force of the spell the first time. It had done little good. He had to try again.

But now, it seemed, he was doomed.

Khalid’s blades whistled through the air as he cut the undead to pieces. Around him, the air was clouded with their foul blood, and the shouts and cries of the Alvar echoed throughout the temple grounds. Tenegal and Farouk were at his side, their own blades tearing into the writhing mass of creatures that pushed them toward the tower.

It seemed hopeless. The tightly packed wights were a wall of rotting flesh that had no end. Even the rangers, who had retreated along with the priests and the Alvar, had begun to fall back even further. They were losing ground, and soon the temple itself would be overrun.

Time appeared to slow down to Khalid. Through his haze he saw Adder and Jhayla rolling over the backs of the undead, slashing their blades in a desperate attempt to hold them at bay. The two were effective and deadly, and Khalid was glad to have them with him. But, there was nothing he could to help them, he knew. He was separated from them by the stinking, writhing flesh that clawed at him with a terrible ferocity, and by the odd feeling that began to course through his body.

His rage was growing, and something was happening to him.

Khalid, my friend,
the Dragon spoke in his mind.

“Dagda…” Khalid murmured as he was splashed with the foul, black blood of the enemy.

My time is coming soon. But fear not, all will be well.

“What… is happening to me?”

Khalid stumbled back, seeing Tenegal’s golden hair flailing through his haze. The Alvar Captain had rushed in front of him; blocking the onslaught of undead and keeping them at bay with a deadly barrage of perfect strikes. He felt Tenegal’s hand push him back, and saw Farouk’s face in front of his own as his vision swam.

You are complete, Khalid. Let my blood be your strength.

Suddenly, Khalid felt a burning in the pit of his stomach. The pain was unbearable; twisting and tearing his gut like a spear being thrust through him. He cried out to Farouk, who steadied him as the bile began to rise in his throat.

“Let the Dragon come!” he heard Farouk shout. His voice was deep and dragging; as if he, too, was moving in slow motion.

As the pain peaked in an agonizing burst, Khalid reared back his head to release the massive wave of burning vomit that shot up his throat. What came forth was unexpected.

It was fire.

Khalid belched a massive jet of flame into the air. His voice deepened into a roar that drew the attention of all of his allies, and even the wights seemed to back away in fear. Above, the swarm of giant constructs buzzed away from their prey, fleeing the wrath of the Dragon.

Khalid fell to his knees as the pain shot through his limbs. His fingers burned and twisted painfully as they elongated into claws; the skin between them stretching into wings. He looked at them in horror, gasping at the sight of his skin becoming black and scaled.

He was transforming.

“Khalid!” Farouk shouted. “Don’t fight it. Become what you were meant to be! You are the Master of Tel Drakkar!”

The druid turned back to the battle, blasting the writhing wights with fire as he kept an eye on Khalid. He dashed past Tenegal, slicing an attacking wight in half. With his staff he released a wave of energy; blasting the undead with a force that blew several of them apart. He laughed maniacally, releasing his wrath as he protected Khalid.

The priest then let loose a roar that shook the temple. Farouk turned, seeing Khalid leap into the air to flap his new wings. He was in full dragon form, but struggled to get airborne as he adjusted to his new body. He appeared much like Erenoth, with horns that lined his back and crowned his head. Long fangs glistened in the moonlight, and the fire in his eyes burned through the darkness around him.

Farouk grinned as Khalid landed back on the ground and bared his teeth. The priest looked at him, almost seeming to smile, then released a jet of flame across the battlefield. The Alvar retreated as the incinerating cloud engulfed the undead. The dragon then charged, tearing into their ranks as the Alvar and the rangers riddled the fleeing wights with arrows.

It seemed the battle had turned in their favor.

“Fall back!” Farouk shouted. “Give the dragon room! Return to the temple grounds!”

As the allies gathered themselves, Khalid leaped into the air again. This time, his wings were stronger, and he rose over the ranks of charging wights to blast them with jets of flame. The undead scattered, allowing the allies to race up the hill to safety. Farouk urged the Alvar past him, staying behind to ensure his friends made it to safety. The rangers soon followed, and Adder gave him a nod as he passed.

“Get to the center of town,” Farouk said. “Help Aeli and Allora fight off the flying creatures.”

Adder and Jhayla followed the others up the hill, directing their troops to the proper position. Farouk glanced up, having seen bright flashes of light erupting from a cluster of the flying creatures. He knew exactly what was happening.

Jodocus was in trouble.

“Wretched things!” Jodocus cursed, flailing his legs to get free.

Three fliers were now swarming around him, taking turns attacking him with their claws. He repeatedly cast his minor dissipation spells, hoping to fluster them enough to give up; but to no avail. His abductor dropped, sailing over the heads of the rushing warriors below. The other fliers followed, pecking at him and screeching with their unearthly voices.

Then, another screech sounded in the distance.

The young druid’s eyes widened as he saw seven black dots descend from the clouds. Their leader turned toward him while the others split up and dispersed among the flying beasts. Jodocus laughed as he saw the dark wings of his savior.

Erenoth had arrived.

“Take them out, brothers!” Erenoth howled to his priests as he shot toward Jodocus.

He flew, claws out, growling fiercely into the night as he approached the small group of attackers. He slammed into Jodocus’ captor with a force that blasted it apart. Millions of tiny insects dispersed, forming a cloud of buzzing life forms that quickly dissipated. He heard Jodocus cry out as he fell, and swooped down underneath the boy. He felt the impact, and adjusted his flight path accordingly.

“Ha!” Jodocus shouted. “That was fun!”

Erenoth howled in laughter, turning in midair to finish off the remaining two attackers. “Good to see you, friend,” he said. “Sorry we’re late. We had to prepare.”

“You arrived just in time!” Jodocus replied. “I was getting tired of shouting!”

Erenoth laughed, darting toward the two creatures that swarmed away to escape. He caught up to them, blasting one with a jet of flame. The creature burst into a bright ball of burning chitin and fell from the sky like a comet.

“Hold on!” he shouted to Jodocus. “Sharp turn.”

He changed direction, turning sideways to face the remaining creature. With a deafening roar, he released another jet, this time slamming into his target to maximize the attack. He blasted right through the insectoid mass, hearing the howls of excitement from his rider.

“Good shot,” Jodocus said.

Erenoth laughed, turning in the air again to get a look at the battlefield. The wights were beginning to infiltrate the temple complex, and the Alvar were lining up to block their advance. The rangers had dispersed to take flanking positions around their allies; drawing their bows in preparation.

“Have there been any signs of the Enkhatar?” Erenoth shouted.

“None that I know of. But I can feel their presence. We should hunt them down.”

Erenoth grunted skeptically. “Your mother would not be pleased,” he said.

“Erenoth!” Jodocus said. “Look! Is that another dragon?”

Erenoth looked down toward the advancing wall of undead. There was indeed another dragon defending the city, and he knew exactly who it was. The chaotic and clumsy movements of the newly transformed priest were quite obvious. He roared with laughter. “It is Khalid!” he said. “He has transformed!”

“Excellent,” Jodocus replied. “He looks like he could use some help.”

Erenoth agreed, diving and preparing his flame as he descended toward Khalid’s position.

“Hold on!” he said. “This will be a fast dive!”

Khalid could not believe the power he wielded. His attacks seemed effortless, yet they caused so much destruction that he surprised even himself. The swipes of his claws tore the wights to pieces, and the jets of fiery breath that he was able to spew from his fanged maw blasted them to cinders. Even the casual flicking of his tail dealt dismembering blows. He felt invincible; sleek, deadly, and hard as steel.

No wonder Erenoth is fearless,
he thought.

Still, his wings were ineffective. Despite flapping them with all his might, he just couldn’t gain any height. They were too new, and he had yet to learn how to coordinate the movements of his muscles to make them work. It would take time. For now, there was a battle to fight, and his new form was most effective; flight worthy or not.