King Of The North (Book 3) (21 page)

Celia nodded and made her way to the back door. As the lock released, Gar heard her scream. He ran back into the room desperately, hoping that his beloved wife and children did not see the terror that he had seen outside.

“What is that?” Celia gasped, pointing at the mass of black tendrils that had suddenly covered the door like a macabre barricade. Gar looked at the windows of the house, and they, too, were blocked. What ever the creature was, it had them trapped.

There was no escape.

Deep rumblings were heard outside, as if the creature were frustrated with the presence of the house. The walls began to groan with the strain, and the glass of the windows shattered.

Celia gasped again, and the children began to
cry.

Gar pulled his family to him, holding them close. He picked up his oldest child, cradling her as he held Celia’s head against his chest. He knew the end was near. His children would never get a chance to grow up, and they would all die horrible deaths at the hands of whatever evil had them surrounded.

They would die together.

“Celia, children,” he whispered. “I love you all very much.”

He pressed his face against Celia’s head, holding his family as tight as he could while the tendrils began moving into the windows. He could feel their power draining the life from him, and could only imagine how his loved ones were suffering. He could not bear to look.

No one would ever know what happened to Farmer Gar and his family.

Chapter Fifteen

Townsfolk scattered as the dark horde descended upon the city of Ardin. They had been taken by surprise at sundown, with little more than the warning calls of stray sheep that wandered the edge of town. The few guards that were on duty sounded the alarms, and rushed to block the onslaught of cackling, screaming undead from catching up with the fleeing citizens of the small town.

With only the sparse street lamps to light their view, the town guards formed a line across the main street as the creatures stumbled into view. They were a mass of limbs and teeth cloaked in an aura of death. The sounds of their anger and suffering filled the air, sending the soldiers into a nervous frenzy. Though experienced in battle, none of them had ever faced the undead.

“Stand your ground, men,” the guard Captain muttered. “We can at least give the people time to secure their homes.”

The men were resigned to protect the people at all costs, and stood fast as the horde fell upon them. Their blades shined in the moonlight as they defended their position, slashing into the darkness to keep the menace at bay. They formed a line of steel, jabbing and thrusting their weapons as they stood side by side. The wall of undead was thick and seemingly endless, and the cries of the soulless were deafening.

“Keep them back!” the Captain ordered. “Jab with your spears and protect the swordsmen in front of you!”

The soldiers in front hacked and slashed continuously, feeling their blades cut into the soft flesh and splash foul, vile fluids into the air. A few of the soldiers, overcome by the stench, began to falter, stepping back to distance themselves from the chaos. They fell behind the spearmen, clenching their faces in revulsion.

“Stay in line!” the Captain commanded, beheading a creature and impaling another.

He fought his way toward the vacant spots, encouraging his men to fight on. But, the line had been weakened, and the creatures broke through. The spearmen who remained were overrun. The undead threw them to the ground, clambering over them and latching onto them with their vile fangs and claws.

“No!” the Captain lamented. But it was too late. Several of the soldiers had been lacerated and bloodied. Their comrades fought to protect them, kicking and slashing their attackers to prevent them from being poisoned. Those that lay wounded were doomed. Before the next night, they, too, would join the ranks of the undead.

The Captain, desperate to prevent such a fate from befalling his men, went into a rage. He growled fiercely, speeding up his attacks with blinding speed, driving the horde back from the fallen men. The battle, it seemed, had taken a turn for the worse, and the soldiers were powerless to hold the creatures back.

Ardin was doomed.

“At last!” Khalid exclaimed as he and his priests crested a hill near the port town.

They looked down upon Ardin, and the chaos that was taking place below them. The horde had overrun the city, breaking the defensive line of soldiers that attempted to protect the people. Khalid raised his staff and drew his sword, prompting the other priests to draw theirs.

“For
The Dragon!” Khalid called, directing his power into the staff.

As the artifact came to life with a blinding, white light, the priests charged. They rushed down the hill surrounded by the light of the Firstborn. To those that saw them, they were divine sentinels, sent to exact holy retribution upon the darkness that had come.

The Captain and his remaining men saw the blinding light descend the nearby hills from between the houses that lined the main street. The dark horde screeched in pain as the light spread, shielding their eyes and protecting their vile flesh. The light, apparently, was damaging to them.

The Captain laughed maniacally. “Fight on, men!” he called. “Protect the fallen! Our saviors have come!”

With the arrival of the
strangers, and the light they bared, the soldiers were renewed. They resumed their defense, driving back the squirming horde, and taking them down in great numbers. Still, they came.

The Captain rushed to the center of the circle, making room for the group of
strangers to enter the battle. He saw seven of them. Six heavily armed and formidable-looking dark figures, and one majestic, fierce leader. He bore the light at the end of an ornate staff, which he tossed into the air. The staff moved to the center of the town square, suspended in mid air, and spinning to maximize the effect of the divine light. As he released the light, the leader drew another sword, approaching the cleared area with dual scimitars.

The seven men entered the square bearing their weapons, walking confidently as their bodies were slowly covered with draconian armor. The leader stopped before the Captain, his face bearing the likeness of a dragon, with the eyes of a man.

“Fear not, brother,” the leader said. “The Dragon has come to protect the people with His light.”

The Captain nodded, awestruck by the appearance of the
strangers who now spread out among his own men to form another defensive line.

“I am Khalid,” the leader said. “And we are the Priests of Drakkar.”

“I am Bradan,” the Captain replied. “I thought the Priests of Drakkar were gone. The temple has been abandoned for hundreds of years.”

“We have returned,” Khalid said, then to his men, “Attack!”

The chaos began again as the priests rushed the encircling horde. Their blades shone brightly with the fury of The Dragon, disintegrating the creatures as they struck. Khalid charged furiously, his twin blades twirling and spinning as he attacked.

As the creatures attempted to advance inward, their efforts were met with an unstoppable force. The priests fought alongside the soldiers, accentuating their attacks with divine energy. Khalid threw bolts of magic from his blades as he attacked, tearing the dark beasts to shreds as it passed through their ranks. The screams of the undead filled the air again, this time accompanied by screams of pain.

Still, the horde continued to press inward, now focused on eliminating the defenders. Though their numbers were great, the presence of the priests thwarted their dominance, causing them to lash out even more chaotically than before.

Khalid sheathed one scimitar as he backed away from the battle. He raised his empty hand into the air, calling his staff back to him. The glowing weapon returned, and Khalid aimed it at the horde. He called upon
The Dragon, and swung the staff before him. Arcs of divine magic shot out, blasting the undead to slimy, vile pieces that splattered the air with dark fluids. The undead behind the front ranks were knocked back, slamming into those behind them. The defenders filled in the gaps, pushing the horde back.

Bradan attacked with renewed confidence. He charged a wight, slashing it across the chest and back again across the throat. The creature still came, clawing and screaming, only to have its head spilt by another soldier. Bradan went on to the next enemy, chopping off its extended claw and running it through. He continued his attack by pulling out and bashing another wight with the hilt of his sword, chopping off its head as it fell.

Khalid continued his magical blasts, tearing the charging undead apart with The Dragon’s energy. Those that came within his reach were finished off with his sword. The rest of the priests were equally deadly, their own blades emitting the same magic that felled the vile creatures with each strike.

“Bradan!” Khalid called to the Captain. “Have your men fall back. We will finish them off. Search the town for any strays.”

Bradan nodded and called to his men, “Regroup in the town square! Then spread out to the docks and the alleys. Finish them off!”

The soldiers of Ardin melted away from the battle, gathering in the town square and then disappearing into the alleyways. Khalid and his priests held the horde at bay with their magic, protecting the soldiers during their retreat.

Despite the chaos, and the horrifying presence of the undead horde, Khalid was confident that the power of The Dragon would prevail.

Erenoth and his priests had sensed the dark presence of the horde, along with that of their Draconian brothers, in Ardin. The seven dragons altered their flight to intercept what they knew would be a fierce and bloody battle. As they neared, they saw the ethereal light that Khalid’s staff emanated, and immediately knew that it was a spell to turn away the undead.

Erenoth smiled as he realized how well Khalid had developed as a priest. Turning into a dive, he screeched loudly to signal his coming, and his priests joined him.

Bradan and his men had encountered a swarm of undead near the docks and had fled to draw them toward the town square. The soldiers ran fast enough to keep ahead of them, yet not fast enough to lose them.

“To the square!” Bradan shouted.

It was then that he heard the echoing shrieks of creatures in the air. He and the soldiers looked upward, their mouths gaping as an aerie of dragons swooped over them and toward the pursuing horde. The men stopped, turning to watch as the dragons strafed the horde with jets of flame. The undead scattered, flaming and screaming as the dragons laid them to waste. The soldiers cheered them on, unsure whether they were really seeing what they thought they were seeing.

“Dragons?” Bradan exclaimed. “Here?”

“They must have come with the priests,” another soldier said.

“Whoever they are, they are surely welcome,” the Captain said. “Come, men, let’s continue hunting down the stragglers!”

Khalid smiled as Erenoth and his priests swooped over the nearby houses to join the battle. The dragons tore into the horde, incinerating them with their breath and tearing them apart with their claws. Khalid’s men shredded them with their blades and magic spells. Together, the two groups of priests were a force to be reckoned with.

The dragons landed among the chaos, attacking with their tails, and firing jets of flame into the attacking horde. Within minutes, piles of burning corpses littered the streets, and the stench of charred flesh filled the air. Whatever undead were left began to flee, only to be finished of by the soldiers that had spread out among the alleyways.

Many of the town’s military lay dead, and Erenoth knew what fate would befall them if they weren’t incinerated as well. With a nod to his priests, he commanded them to carry their bodies away and dispose of them away from the eyes of their comrades. When the dragons departed, Erenoth transformed, drawing stares from the soldiers of Ardin.

“Erenoth!” Khalid exclaimed, clasping his friend’s hand. “It is good to see you again.”

“Indeed,” Erenoth agreed. “The time has come to meet the Onyx Dragon. He has sent us to scoop you up.”

“I am ready,” Khalid replied. “I have been looking forward to meeting him. Tell me, what are his plans?”

“The Knights of The Dragon are at Southwatch,” Erenoth explained. “They meet with Traegus there. When they are finished, they will make their way to Faerbane and join with the army that is already on their way.”

“The final assault is in preparation, then?” Khalid asked.

“Yes,” Erenoth replied. “And we are to be a part of it. Eamon has commanded myself and my priests to bear you into battle. We will be the first company of what he has called The Cloud Warriors. We will assault the castle as the battle takes place outside the city walls.”

“What of the people of Faerbane?” Khalid asked. “Won’t they be in danger?”

“I have the feeling they will be safe. The Thieves’ Guild will evacuate them secretly.”

Khalid suddenly remembered the thief he had met at Faillaigh. He never heard from him again. He still had no answer as to why the Enkhatar had attacked the city.

“Erenoth,” he began. “There is something in Faillaigh that is of interest to The Lifegiver. It must be a weapon, or a person. I don’t know which. But, we encountered an Enkhatar there. It was after something.”

Erenoth nodded, glancing at his priests as he did. “There is a temple there,” he replied. “An ancient temple that is now used as the sewer system for the city. It was once an armory for the Knights of
The Dragon under King Daegoth. An armory and training facility. The Knights once gathered there to worship. It was their temple, where they worshipped in private so as not to disturb the pilgrims who worshipped at the main temples. There is nothing there now but statues of the old Knights, and left over sacraments. The Enkhatar may have felt the lingering presence of The Dragon, nothing more.”

Khalid nodded. “Then the Enkhatar are more attuned to
The Dragon than I had thought,” he concluded.

“That is logical, as they, themselves, once served a Firstborn.”

Bradan and his men appeared from the alleys, coming together in the town square to meet with the priests. The dragons were returning at the same time, and swooped in to land and transform into their human shapes. Bradan’s men stared in awe, prompting Khalid to invite Bradan and his lieutenants to meet them.

“Captain,” he began. “This is Erenoth, High Priest of Dol Drakkar. Erenoth, Captain Bradan.”

Erenoth nodded in greeting. “Well done, Captain,” he said. “Your men fought well to protect their people.”