Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5) (3 page)

“Maedoc told me how much he loved the queen, and the man who helped to raise him.”

“That was Garret,” Aeli said. “The former king’s assassin and protector of Siobhan herself.”

Allora sighed. “And he also told me of the tragedy of Siobhan’s death.”

“Yes, a tragedy indeed. Eamon has taken it very well, though I know he is torn apart on the inside.”

“His strength is great, then,” Allora said. “If he can still lead this battle with such a heavy heart, then he is a great king. I shall like to meet him.”

Aeli smiled. “You will,” she said. “For now, we should return to Southwatch. The night brings unsavory characters.”

The shaman watched the two women from a distance. His heart was laden with guilt and grief as he did so, seeing the two lovely creatures laugh and smile. It was a beautiful sound; one that he missed greatly. If only the guilt would go away, he could enjoy their laughter more.

Allora, he saw, was still just as beautiful as she was thousands of years ago when the shaman first saw her. It was her beauty that had driven him mad, and weakened his will enough to allow the Lifegiver to take his soul. Under his influence, the shaman did terrible things to her. Things he was now ashamed of, and that would haunt him for the rest of his existence.

He must make amends… if he could.

But, he knew, she would never forgive him, or even give him a chance to atone for what he had done. He would spend eternity regretting the harm he had caused such a beautiful creature and her people.

He sighed, knowing in his heart that he would never be able to face her. But he would make amends in a different way. He would atone for his sins without her knowledge. He would help their cause—her cause—until his end. Perhaps then she would forgive him. Perhaps then she would look upon him as a good man, and not the beast he was born.

With a heavy heart, Torak wept into the night.

Chapter Three

“Land!” the lookout shouted.

Eamon peered into the night, seeing the multitude of campfires that were crowding the shore of Thyre. He smiled as he counted them, seeing hundreds—if not thousands—of tiny fires in the distance. There were armies camped there, lying in wait for the sons of the Firstborn to lead them to victory.

“Full sails!” he shouted as the knights gathered around him. He looked to either side of his ship, seeing that Ulrich and Hamal were both at the bows of their own vessels. Hamal raised his sword as he looked back, and Eamon nodded his head. Ulrich stood motionless, chewing on an apple, tugging on his beard.

The time was near.

“There must be a thousand fires there,” Brianna exclaimed.

“I was not expecting so many to be assembled already,” Eamon replied.

“Do you think Cannuck is there?” Wrothgaar asked.

Eamon nodded. “I know he is,” he said. “He is now the son of Kronos. I can feel his presence.”

Wrothgaar grinned in anticipation of meeting the High Jarl for the first time. Angen patted him on the back, but that smiled never left his face.

“I’ll prepare the men to disembark,” Angen said, staring after Wrothgaar as he walked away.

“I wish Fergis were here,” Brynn said. “He would be happy to see such a force assembled in the name of freedom and honor.”

“He would,” Eamon agreed. “And Kuros, as well,” he added, looking at Daryth.

Daryth smiled. “Yes, he would,” he said.

“We should announce our arrival,” Azim said, holding up his bow. “Shall I do so?”

“Make our presence known,” Eamon said.

Azim pulled back his bow, aiming it to the sky. He released a flaming arrow into the clouds. It burst into a blazing storm of fireballs that lit the sea with its beautiful orange glow. Far off to the shore, others fired flaming arrows into the sky in welcome.

“Come, my friends,” Eamon said. “Let us man the boats.”

Tregar and his men stood along the shore, watching as the ships approached in the darkness. He had seen their signal and ordered his men to return the greeting, and now awaited their arrival. Aboard the countless ships, he could see their torches bobbing up and down as they crested the waves. There looked to be fifty or more vessels, and who knows how many men aboard.

What a formidable force they will make.

“Mael,” Tregar commanded. “Prepare for their arrival. Send word to Cannuck that King Eamon has come.”

Mael bowed, disappearing into the throng of gathered warriors. In the distance, boats were lowered into the water as the ships made anchor. Behind, a fleet of transports sailed through them. They would make landfall and let their occupants off directly onto the shore.

“The Lifegiver will be shaking in his boots,” a soldier said, prompting laughter from Tregar’s troops.

“If he even has boots,” another said.

As the boats came into view, Tregar unsheathed his sword and held it in the air. His army did the same, and the collective shouts of the men were heard echoing across the water. Then, with a surge of froth and roiling sea, the strangest vessel Tregar had ever seen suddenly surfaced.

The ship looked like a giant lobster with a row of jagged spikes along its dorsal edge. As it bobbed on the surface of the water, Tregar and his men stood wide-eyed and frozen. A portal opened at its top, and a dark-skinned, smiling man poked his head through. He was dressed in silk clothes; brightly colored and embroidered with intricate designs. He wore a round turban of golden silk, with a ruby centered on its crown. His face, friendly and wise, was adorned with a long beard, and a mustache that was curled at the tips. Both were impeccably trimmed.

“Well met,” he said, waving his right hand.

Tregar returned the gesture, still frozen as the ship walked its way up the shore to settle into the sand.

“Am I seeing things?” he asked a soldier near him.

“If you are, sire, then I am too,” the man replied. “In which case, I would suggest more ale.”

“King Tregar, I assume,” the dark man said as he vaulted down to the sand. He was followed by five other men who disembarked in the same fashion. “I am Jadhav, the Raja of Pashir; the rightful one, of course.”

Tregar held out his hand in greeting. “I am Tregar. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jadhav.”

Tregar’s men gathered around Jadhav’s vessel, examining it and pounding on its surface. Jadhav chuckled as he watched. “This is my ship, the
Videsh.
One of them anyway.”

“Quite a remarkable vessel,” Tregar said. “I have never seen anything like it.”

“Indeed. Come, let us greet King Eamon and Prince Hamal.”

Wrothgaar and Angen jumped into the water to tug the small boat onto shore as it reached a shallow enough depth. They were greeted by hundreds of soldiers that had gathered to witness their landing, and the eager men crowded the surf to assist in beaching the boats. Jadhav immediately appeared, accompanied by a well-dressed, but brutish-looking man of the west.

“Eamon,” Jadhav began the introductions. “This is King Tr—“

“Tregar!” Wrothgaar shouted, grabbing the man by the shoulders. Tregar returned the gesture with a wide smile.

“Wrothgaar, my friend!” he said. “It is good to see you again. You made it off the island, I see.”

“Ah yes,” Wrothgaar replied. “No thanks to you.”

The two men chuckled, turning to Eamon.

“King Eamon,” Tregar said, extending his hand in friendship. “It is an honor to meet the Onyx Dragon. It is you who inspired all of us to fight.”

“Thank you,” Eamon said. “I am glad I could be an inspiration. There is someone else I want you to meet. Hamal!”

The prince made his way through the crowd of men to the small group of nobles. Eamon beckoned him to join them, introducing him to Tregar.

“This is Hamal of Khem,” he said. “The rightful heir to the throne. Hamal, this is King Tregar of Thyre.”

Hamal and Tregar shook hands, acknowledging each other with a slight bow of their heads.

“I heard of your mission to liberate the island prison,” Tregar said. “Very impressive. I had wanted to liberate that island for years, but for my father…”

“It was Imbra’s wish,” Hamal said. “And the rewards were great. There were many good men imprisoned there.”

Tregar nodded. “Yes, there were. Thank you for your bravery. You are a credit to your people.”

Hamal smiled. “I thank you for your words,” he said. “And I thank you for not condemning my countrymen for the actions of an insane demon.”

“With any luck,” Tregar said. “When they are free, they will be good men once again.”

“Has Cannuck arrived?” Ulrich said, approaching the group. “He owes me a flagon of ale.”

Tregar laughed. “Cannuck is in the mead hall. I will take you all to him.”

Ulrich winked at Wrothgaar, who smiled knowingly. “Of course he’s in the mead hall. He knew I was coming.”

Cannuck sat amongst a group of men around a large fire that raged in the open aired mead hall. He and a few other high-ranking warriors were seated on large kegs that were arranged in a semicircle. All around them, the warriors of the north, and of Thyre, listened to their tales and laughed out loud at their jests.

It was a pleasant atmosphere of brotherhood and camaraderie that warmed the hearts of the new group of men that entered. All around, men of different lands talked and laughed with each other as if they had been friends their whole lives. It was a sight that gave hope to all who entered.

“Cannuck!” the King of Thyre shouted.

Cannuck stood when he saw Tregar return with his new friends.

Eamon looked upon him for the first time with awe. He was a giant of a man; big as an ox, built like a barrel, and as rough as any man he had ever seen. The stories he had heard of Cannuck, the High Jarl of the Northlands, had done him no justice. He was truly a god amongst men.

Ulrich approached him first, kneeling in respect as the High Jarl placed his hand on his head.

“Ulrich, my brother,” Cannuck greeted him. “Stand now, Jarl of my wayward tribe.”

Ulrich stood, and the two men knocked heads, bursting out into roars of laughter. Wrothgaar followed Eamon, eager to meet Cannuck for the first time as well. He unknowingly began to kneel as his father did, but Cannuck caught him up by grasping his upper arm.

“Stand up, boy,” Cannuck growled. “The Onyx Dragon is your king now. You disrespect him.”

Ulrich smacked Wrothgaar on the back of the head, prompting both Jarls to burst into laughter again. Wrothgaar chuckled, red-faced and slightly confused.

“King Eamon,” Cannuck, grasping Eamon’s hand with a fist that was twice as meaty as his own. “You have the look of your grandfather. A great man he was.”

“Yes, he was,” Eamon replied. “I wish he were here to join the battle.”

“I am sorry to hear about your mother,” the Jarl continued. “She was a great Queen from what my men say.”

“She was my inspiration. I strive to be as good a ruler as she was.”

“Eamon is a fine king,” Ulrich complimented him. “Just as strong and tenacious as Siobhan ever was.”

“Well then,” Cannuck said. “Let’s fetch these boys some ale!”

The allied kings sat together at a large wooden table a short ways away from the roaring fire. A cloth canopy was set up above them, and squires and pages served them ale and freshly cooked meat. The Knights of the Dragon remained among the other warriors, sharing tales of valor and forging new friendships. Of particular interest to the army was Brianna, who spoke as one of them, and whose tales were just as heroic and bloody as the rest. Even the female fighters of the north were eager to make her acquaintance.

“I see your lady knight is making friends,” Cannuck said. “She is impressive. She is much like the women of my lands.”

“She is a formidable swordsman,” Eamon replied. “And a renowned archer, as well.”

“She is from Eirenoch?”

“The daughter of Lord Galen of the former Southern Kingdom,” Eamon replied.

“Ah! A noblewoman with a blade and a bow,” Cannuck exclaimed. “Now that is impressive. How did you come to choose her as a knight?”

Eamon finished chewing a mouthful of meat, then washed it down with a swig of ale. “Her father’s estate was under attack by a force of Jindala that they had lured out of a nearby city. We charged in to help them, and that is when I saw her battle prowess. I was impressed with the savagery she displayed in battle. She was every bit as brutal as any man I had ever seen. I wouldn’t fight her myself.”

Cannuck chuckled. “That is good,” he said. “She will fit in well with my Valkyries.”

“You are in command of divine warriors?” Eamon asked.

“Kronos gave me their swords when he appeared to us in battle,” Cannuck replied. “I will call upon them when they are needed.”

Eamon nodded. He looked forward to seeing them, if the need arose. “I hear Kronos has also named you as his son.”

“Odin,” Cannuck replied. “That is what he called me.”

“I hadn’t noticed before,” Ulrich said. “But where is your son, Thorgil?”

“Thorgil fell in battle,” Cannuck said. “He lives in Valhalla now.”

Ulrich grunted. “No doubt he took many enemies with him.”

“The worst of them. A creature of darkness that drew the life from everything around it.”

“Defiler,” Hamal said. “Vile beasts.”

“Not all of them,” Cannuck said. “My friend Farouk says they are simply a perversion of a gentle species that the Lifegiver enslaved.”

Eamon was surprised to hear Farouk’s name. Though he knew the druid had traveled north, he did not know that he had met Cannuck. “You met Farouk then?” he asked.

“I did. He is a great man, and a great druid. He was a needed ally; not only for his help freeing our father, but by his blade and his blood as well.”

“His blood?” Hamal asked. “Was he wounded?”

“Yes,” Cannuck said. “But he was healed. I meant for his bloodline, though. He fathered a child with a tribal shaman. A woman named Silka.”

Eamon furrowed his brow. “Does he know this?”

Cannuck nodded, but said nothing.

“Hamal has been named the son of Imbra,” Jadhav added, breaking the silence.