Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5) (27 page)

The group started forward wordlessly, each focused on their tasks. Traegus, with his strange Druaga device, would open a portal to the void; or limbo as Aeli had called it. Eamon would release the spell given to him to transform the Lifegiver into a physical being. And Faeraon would join Eamon in the actual battle. Hamal’s purpose was, as yet, unknown, other than gaining them entry into the city itself. Perhaps he was there simply to claim his throne once the Lifegiver was destroyed.

Anything was possible.

With the appearance of the Firstborn, the two armies had become separated. The Jindala had regrouped in a tight formation, facing the allied troops from the east. They had managed to flee, and the allies had let them, in order to give the men time to reform into an organized regiment. Now, as the two prepared to charge again, the Firstborn took the lead.

Kronos was the first to charge, holding his hammer high and howling into the wind. The Northmen followed directly behind him, crying out his name. The Knights of the Dragon charged down the center, followed by the Alvar, who fired a cloud of arrows into the sky. Imbra and Yin-Kai charged together, with the Sun King’s army, the janni, and the army of Anwar behind them.

Kronos smashed into the terrified ranks, swinging his hammer in a wide arc that threw the bodies of the enemy into the air. The Northmen poured into the gap, pushing the Jindala back even further. Imbra spun and slashed with his many swords, becoming a deadly wall of blades that was accentuated by the fiery djinn that followed.

Mekembe’s tribal warriors skewered their foes with hundreds of spears and arrows, while his armored soldiers leaped over them to strike with hammers and blades. Tregar’s men took the right, pressing the flank inward to pack them more tightly. His own blade took down man after man as he cried out with the fury of battle.

Wrothgaar’s mind was clouded as he reached the front lines. His ax sang with the glory of Kruum, but in his head, he could only picture his father. He could only see Ulrich’s face, could only feel rage, and could only hear the last cries of battle that the Jarl had made before he fell. Every swing of his axe was a kill of vengeance, and every shout was a call to his father. His brothers sensed his rage, having gathered around him to ensure he was not attacked from behind. Angen was at his side, as usual, and he could hear the older man’s taunts as he made short work of the Jindala around him.

“Where is Eamon?” he heard Brianna cry out.

Azim spun to slash at an attacker as Brianna ducked out of the way. “He has gone to Khem,” he replied.

“
Ahhhh!
” Daryth cursed. “I wanted to see the pyramid!”

“So did I!” said Angen. “What about you, Azim?”

“I’ve seen it!” he replied, taking out a swordsman who came too close.

Brynn chuckled loudly, and passed by Wrothgaar. The Northmen pushed forward, lightly pushing Brynn away and chopping into an enemy’s shoulder. Brynn spun, finishing off the man with a thrust through the gut.

“Thank you, brother,” he shouted.

Wrothgaar grinned. “We will see the pyramid when this is over,” the Northman said. “Watch your back, Brynn!”

Before Brynn could react, his armor flared to life, covering him in thick plates of dragon scale. An attacker’s blade glanced off, and Brynn spun to slash across the man’s throat. “That was close!”

Wrothgaar blocked a spinning attack with his gauntlet, punching with his axe hand. His target was thrown back and disappeared into the melee. The Northman rammed his way through to find him, and finished him off with a crushing chop of his axe. As he was pulling it free, a tribesman of Anwar ran across his back, thrusting his spear into a Jindala soldier who came from behind. The diminutive warrior cackled with delight, spearing another enemy through the back and slipping into the crowd.

“Ha!” Wrothgaar howled.

“Nasty little blokes, aren’t they?” Daryth said, prompting a grin from the Northman.

Angen appeared in front of them then. “We’re almost to the rear ranks!” he shouted. “Let’s keep going!”

Clapping Daryth on the shoulder, Wrothgaar howled into the air and charged.

Four spears impaled the Sun King at once. He gasped in horror, dropping his blade into the sand. Tatsumi cried out as he watched his father collapse as the spears were withdrawn. Enraged, he spun into the air, beheading one of the attackers with one slash, and gutting another as he landed. Two swift alternating swipes finished off the other two, just as another swordsman struck off Tsosobu’s head. Tatsumi charged, advancing with a wall of blades as his father’s killer back away…

…right into Yin-Kai’s path.

Tatsumi froze as the man turned and looked up at the giant Firstborn. Yin-Kai ran him through with his blade, lifting the man into the air and flinging him several yards away, screaming. Tatsumi fell to his knees in grief, planting his blades into the ground beside him. He felt the rumbling of Yin-Kai’s boots, and looked up to see him standing above him.

Suddenly, the Firstborn collapsed into dust. The swirling mass of energy that remained reached out for the prince, wrapping its smoky tendrils around him. Tatsumi stood—or was made to stand—feeling the influx of power come over his body. He felt stronger, faster, and more alive than ever.

He looked around him at the samurai that had gathered. They stood in awe as their new king received the blessing of Yin-Kai. Tatsumi reached down to retrieve his blades, growling into the air with rage. The samurai returned the call, and Tatsumi took command.

The new Sun King had been crowned.

The Northmen had followed Kronos into the depths of the battle. The Firstborn led the way, clearing a wide path with his mighty hammer. Those that were close to him could feel his power, and were energized and healed as they fought beside him. Cannuck and Ceor kept their eyes on him, and the other Jarls, as they rallied their men behind him. For the second time, the High Jarl of the Northlands fought at his Lord’s side, and there was nothing in the world that could ever give him a greater sense of pride. Even if the battle was lost, or the tribes were forced to flee, this moment would live on in the legends of the north forever and ever.

Now, as the Northmen pushed on with greater ferocity, the Firstborn stopped. Cannuck urged his men forward, directing them to continue their onslaught. They charged forth, each of them raising their weapons into the air as they passed the Firstborn.

Kronos turned to him, standing stoically amidst the chaos. He looked at Cannuck with sad, wistful eyes, tilting his head to the side as a smile came across his face. The High Jarl could only gaze back, his weapon arm resting in a sign of respect. Then, Kronos approached him, rumbling the ground with each step. The Firstborn towered over him, forcing Cannuck to look up into his eyes. Kronos reached out, placing his hand on Cannuck helmet; the very helmet that Kronos had given him. Once again, he smiled. It was a sad, yet proud smile that a father would give to his own son. It filled Cannuck with peace, as if the very expression had imparted some serene energy to him.

It was simply Kronos’ love for his children.

“Odin,” Kronos said; his voice deep and booming, yet somehow gentle. “Be your peoples’ father, and their king. My blessing will be with you forever.”

It was the first time Canuck had heard him speak more than the name “Odin.” He felt honored that his Lord had chosen to address him, and to acknowledge him as his successor. Cannuck reached up to grasp Kronos’ massive hand, gripping it tightly as he stared into his father’s eyes. He felt an unbreakable bond then; one that could never be severed, regardless of the outcome of the battle.

Suddenly, Kronos collapsed into dust. Cannuck was overwhelmed with the energy that surged into his body, stumbling back as the wisps of blue penetrated his flesh. He knelt, his face toward the ground, and his hand gripping his hammer—Kronos’ hammer, tightly.

Then, he stood. Gripping the hammer tightly with both hands, he raised it high into the air, shouting the call of the north. He smashed the hammer into the ground, breaking through the rock and sand with a clap of thunder that shook the ground around him. The Northmen cheered, renewed by the power of Kronos. They charged forward, healed and invincible.

Imbra felt his brothers fade. His sadness was great, but he knew that the time had come for all of them to pass on their power to their children. Hamal would be his choice, and would need his blessing to play his destined part in this battle. He would defeat an enemy of unknown origin; one that awaited him at Khem. It was not Absu himself, Imbra knew, but something that had been brought to life by the Lifegiver’s power.

It was a darkness that existed before the coming of man.

Imbra raised his blades, calling to the janni who fought nearby. They heard his cry, and rose up above the battle to greet him. Imbra looked upon with the eyes of a father, proud to see them fighting alongside the children of Earth. Though he had given them free will, they had all chosen to preserve life, and not destroy it. He smiled. They were good children. They were his greatest creation.

They would live on in legend.

Imbra roared into the air, raising all six of his arms high above him. The janni surged around him as he imparted a small part of his power to each of them. The shed their rags and dried flesh, becoming whole once again as Imbra’s greatness filled them with life once again.

Renewed and reborn, the janni returned to the battle. Imbra watched them go, leading their allies against the forces of darkness as they were meant to do. He smiled again.

Then, he collapsed into the Earth.

His energy coalesced into a great vortex that rose into the air high above the heads of his children. It spread among them, healing them and bringing them courage and determination. They fought with greater morale, and greater skill; energized with the power of Imbra.

Then, with a burst of blinding light, the bluish mass shot off to the east, seeking its new host.

There, at the gates of Khem, Ardumak would be born.

Smoke billowed over the wall of Khem in tall, black columns that choked out the sky. The smell of oil and burning wood hung in the air, bringing a suffocating feeling to the four friends who approached. The city gates were intact, rising high above them; monolithic slabs with riveted iron plates and carved with odd figures that seemed vile and perverse.

On either side were tall statues of strange, godlike beings. Though they were humanoid in appearance, their faces were beastly, and their heads were adorned with ram’s horns. They were all bearded, and bore long spears or massive clubs. The four men looked upon them with loathing; each of them equally repulsed by the sight of the fearsome creatures.

Hamal was the most disturbed of them all. Though the others had reacted to the sights of the decimated city, his revulsion was one of pure instinct. Something was there, he knew; something dark and primordial that made his previous encounters seem like mere annoyances. He did not even feel such a gut-wrenching response when he faced the Enkhatar at the island prison.

No, this was worse.

“What is it, Hamal?” Eamon asked him.

Hamal shook his head, his face blank. “This does not feel right,” he said. “The city is too quiet. I know it is abandoned, but the Lifegiver should be active.”

“Perhaps he is afraid,” Faeraon offered. “He knows we are here.”

Traegus nodded. Hamal was not convinced that was the whole truth. If the Lifegiver knew they were present, surely he would try to stop them from entering the Great Pyramid.

“We must keep going,” Hamal said. “Our destinies lie beyond these gates.”

“Open them,” Traegus said.

Hamal drew his blade. As he held it in his hands, he felt it growing warm. It began to vibrate lightly, and it became stronger as he walked toward the gates. When he neared, he noticed a faint shimmering in front of the massive stone doors, as if there was a glass wall blocking the way; only it seemed to glisten with dark energy.

He stepped closer, holding
Mahaguratu
out before him. The air itself began to vibrate as the shimmering barrier’s oscillations became more powerful. Hamal closed his eyes, raising his blade to strike. That seemed the only logical course of action at the moment.

“Be careful,” Eamon said.

Hamal took a deep breath, thrusting his sword out before him with a shout of “Imbra!”

A bright flash erupted from the tip of his sword, blasting into the barrier and shattering like glass. The sound was deafening, and the four of them shielded their faces from the ethereal shards that exploded outward.

Hamal looked back at them, smiling. They moved up next to him, staring up at the giant gates that still blocked their way. Hamal again stepped forward, reaching out to touch the intricate carvings on the stone doors. They felt cold, and seemed to exude darkness itself.

“It is like touching the gates of Hell,” he said.

“That may not be as metaphorical as you think,” Traegus said.

Hamal continued to feel around on the surface, studying the various designs; trying to make some sense of their purpose. Though the figures seemed to be purely for decoration, there were other markings that resembled an alphabet, or some kind of phonetic writing. Whatever the case, they were undecipherable in Hamal’s eyes. Frustrated, he dropped his hand to his side, stepping back.

“I have no idea what these symbols mean,” he said.

Traegus had fallen silent; simply staring at the symbols and mumbling to himself. He scratched his chin, stepping forward, touching the symbols for himself.

“These are mathematical symbols,” he said. “They are similar to those that Maedoc and I have studied, but with some variation.”

“What do they mean?” Eamon asked.

Traegus pointed to an odd shape near the inner edge of one door; one that matched another on the other door. “This is similar to the symbol for infinity,” he said. Then, moving to the matching symbol, “And it appears to be connected to this one.”

He then moved to the space between the two, tracing an elaborate rune that was split between the two doors. “But this one, that connects the two, is something I do not recognize.”