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

“And what do you plan to do with her?” Eamon asked. “Can she be used to strengthen the Great Mother?”

Farouk sighed. “Unfortunately, no,” he said. “But she may be of some other use, just not of use to us. Not directly, anyway.”

The kings scowled, unsure of Farouk’s meaning, but they continued to listen.

“Recently, the young Jodocus was able to detect a rift between dimensions. The boy felt the presence of a benevolent spirit walking the forests near the banshee’s lair. I was able to cross over into this spirit’s realm, and I found that he was very much alive. He was, however, the only living thing left on that world.”

“Who was this man?” Hamal asked.

“Not a man. A creature called an Alvar. Cannuck, you may be familiar with his people. Eamon, your people refer to them as the
Sidhe
.”

Cannuck nodded. “They were here many thousands of years ago. They helped the Northman in the beginning.”

“Yes,” Farouk said. “They have indeed helped our world on many occasions in the past. But they are now without a home. The Lifegiver destroyed their world, and their people faded into the darkness of Limbo. All but Faeraon, their king.”

“Where is he now?” Eamon asked.

Farouk continued. “He, his daughter, and their remaining people are here on our world. Through the combined efforts of myself, Aeli, Jodocus, Traegus, and Maedoc, we managed to bring them through into the safety of Earth. But there is something else. Allora, Faeraon’s daughter, has been here many times in the past, and was killed on this world thousands of years ago.”

“Allora…” Eamon repeated the name.

Farouk approached Eamon, looking him in the eye. “Allora, through a powerful spell, became the banshee.”

Eamon raised his brow, indicating his surprise. “I had no idea,” he said. “But who cast this spell upon her?”

“It was Tyrus,” Farouk said. “Long before he became Tyrus. Through communion with my friends, I learned that Tyrus was born into the same race of men that we call the wildmen. They were once more civilized and practiced Earth magic. This was before they were corrupted by their isolation. Tyrus was a powerful shaman among them, one that could control the dead, and call to spirits beyond the realm of Earth. As the Lifegiver was destroying Allora’s world, she desperately traveled the realms in search of a way to restore life. She found that solution here; Theia. But, though she tried to reach the Mother spirit, she could not. Tyrus found Allora and destroyed her before she could bring Theia back to her own realm.”

“If this spirit can save their world,” Eamon said. “Then give it to them.”

“That was the plan,” Farouk said. “And in return, Faeraon’s people will help us fight the Jindala.”

Hamal pounded his fist on the table, grinning. “Then what are we waiting for? Bring them, druid!”

Farouk smiled. “I will, when the time is right. They do not travel well, so when your forces finally reach the Great Pyramid, or at least closer to it than here, Traegus will transport them.”

Eamon stood, smiling and clasping Farouk by the shoulders. “This is the best news I have heard in a long while, my friend. I wish to meet this Faeraon, and his daughter.”

“As do I,” Cannuck said, followed by the grunts of agreement from the others.

“Good,” Farouk said, slowly fading from sight. “I will return.”

“Again,” Azim said. “I hate when he does that.”

Chapter Five

“Tell me of this assassin,” Faeraon said to Maedoc as the seer covered the Dragonstone.

Maedoc cleared his throat, turning to the Alvar king, who stood in his doorway. “A demon,” he said. “One who wields a blade of pure shadow. Khalid has been caring for a man who was mortally wounded with this blade. He is dying.”

Faeraon approached Maedoc, a look of concern spreading across his face. “Absu has created many dark things,” he said. “Things that cannot pass with him when he crosses realms. This assassin is one of them.”

“You have met him?” Maedoc asked.

Faeraon nodded. “He killed many of my people,” he said, sadly. “Those who would have lived forever had they not met him.”

“Who is he?”

“Absu has named him Akharu throughout the many realms,” Faeraon said. “Wherever he is created, he remains, but for my world.”

“Why is that?” Maedoc asked.

“He was banished through the combined efforts of many of our magicians. It was difficult, but it was the only way. There was not a swordsman among us who could face him.”

Maedoc nodded. “He appears to be after a friend of mine; another assassin named Garret. He was once a member of our court, and the bodyguard of the queen.”

“This Scorpion that the ranger spoke of,” Faeraon added.

“Yes,” Maedoc replied. “He was killed by his own son at Faerbane. But we have reason to believe he is alive again; brought back by the Great Mother herself to eliminate her enemies.”

“That would be why Akharu has been created again,” Faeraon said.

“I have faith that Garret can destroy him. But I do not wish for this man at Tel Drakkar to die.”

“I can help him,” Faeraon said. “And I would very much like to meet this Khalid. I will go to him, and I will allow my warriors to protect the temple as requested.”

Maedoc smiled. “Good,” he said, relieved. “I was hesitant to ask you.”

“Fear not, friend. We will take twenty of my warriors. Tenegal, my captain, shall command them when we return.”

“Excellent,” Maedoc replied. “We should leave immediately. I will find Traegus.”

Torak crouched in the underbrush of the forest near Southwatch. To the east of him, a small company of rangers was passing silently toward the south, nearly undetectable as they moved. Only Torak’s highly-tuned senses made him aware of their passing, and his acute hearing allowed him to hear their whispers.

According to their leaders; a lovely young woman with short, golden hair and a rough, throaty voice, and a formidable-looking man with tied back hair, there was a sense of urgency at Tel Drakkar. The shaman recognized the name; it was the temple of the Dragon in the south. Someone or something had put the priests there on alert, and the rangers were now on their way to guard the surrounding forest.

Torak wondered what that something was.

He, himself, had sensed a strange darkness on the island. It was something vaguely familiar, but unknown to him; something he had, perhaps, met before, in another time and place.

He must help them somehow.

Casting a minor incantation to mask the sounds of his movement, he started after the company. He ran quickly, covering the distance between them in just a few minutes. When he was nearly on top of the rangers, he stopped and raised his staff.

“
Nal at za Idimmu
,” he spoke.

As he waved his staff toward the company, a shimmering wave of magic expanded out and passed through them. It was a protection spell; one that would shield them from dark magic. Though quite a powerful spell, they would be oblivious to its presence. Torak, however, was not oblivious to the presence behind him.

He turned quickly, seeing a huge cat staring him down. Though it did not appear aggressive, the shaman backed away cautiously. Much to his surprise, the cat greeted him.

“Hello,” it said.

Torak froze, not entirely sure he just heard what he thought he heard. Nevertheless, he answered. “You speak?” he asked.

“Well, of course,” the cat answered. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Torak relaxed, realizing the cat was not going to attack. “What are you?” he asked.

“I am a moorcat. What are you? You seem somewhat human, but not entirely.”

Torak shrugged. “I am not quite sure what I am anymore,” he replied. “But I am not here to cause any harm to anyone.”

The moorcat nodded. “I see,” he said. “You have cast a spell upon my friends. I saw it happen, and decided to investigate. You seem friendly enough to me.”

Torak smiled. “As do you.”

“What is your name, friend?”

“I am Torak,” he answered. “I was once a shaman of my people. Long, long ago.”

“I see. I am afraid I do not have a name that you can pronounce. But, you may call me what you wish. Would you like to join me in traveling to Tel Drakkar?”

Torak swallowed, looking down at his feet shamefully. “I may not,” he replied. “My presence would not be appreciated, nor tolerated.”

“Oh?” the moorcat responded. “Why is that?”

“I was once a very bad man,” Torak replied. “But I am working to make amends. No one can know that I am here, or who I really am.”

The moorcat nodded. “Very well,” he said. “I do not understand, but I suppose you have your reasons. You seem like a good man to me, so I will not question your past.”

“Thank you.”

“I must continue on to Tel Drakkar,” the moorcat said. “But I will keep watch for you. If you need help with anything, I will be glad to offer my assistance in any way I can.”

“That is much appreciated, friend. But my journey is my own.”

“Then good luck to you, my friend,” the moorcat said. “And safe journeys to you.”

Torak smiled again. “And to you, friend.”

With that, the moorcat bounded off into the forest, resuming his escort of the rangers. Torak watched him with a smile. He had never met a moorcat before, nor any other creature that was so friendly. He was glad to have met him.

Slowly, the shaman was beginning to realize his worth. If a divine creature of the forest would accept him as a friend, then perhaps the people would, too. For now, however, he would not risk it. He would continue to do good, and help those in need without drawing too much attention to himself.

Perhaps, one day, he could be a little more human. He would only need to act as such, he reasoned, or even better. Maybe then he could take his place among the good people of the world, and live with them in peace.

He could only hope.

With his attempt at finishing off Jax thwarted, Akharu now hid in the darkness of a cave in Faerbane’s cliff face. He glared out from behind the waterfall that emptied into the city’s river, fuming with rage at the priest who had dealt such a savage wound. The assassin’s throat had healed quickly, but the pain that remained was intense. Even a demon like Akharu felt pain, and it was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

The priest had nearly beheaded him with his swords; a fact that was unsettling. It was one of the few ways he could actually be killed, and the human—who was obviously a man of Khem—had almost done it. The vile man had succeeded in severing his hand, though, and that would be a wound to remember. Despite the fact that the hand had grown back, it was still painful.

Akharu would not, however, seek revenge upon him. His focus was clear. He would follow his master’s command and seek out the Onyx Dragon before he could reach the Great Pyramid.

The priest be damned.

Even Garret, Akharu’s original target, was of no consequence. The damage had been done. Garret had achieved his mission and had eliminated every single puppet king that the Lifegiver had placed on the thrones of the world. All but one, that is. Menkhanu still sat upon the throne of Khem acting as the Mouth of Absu. It was doubtful that Garret would attempt to assassinate him, as he resided within the Great Pyramid itself.

The Lifegiver would protect him.

Akharu stood, reaching out with his mind. He sought the location of the Onyx Dragon, sensing in what direction he should travel. He could feel that the king was no longer within Faerbane, but had traveled across the sea. That was his most logical route.

Akharu,
the Lifegiver spoke.

“Yes, Father.”

The Onyx Dragon has arrived in Thyre. He is now on his way to Khem with the armies of the west.

“I will kill him.”

Do not fail me, my son. You are the only servant of mine who has successfully fulfilled his missions so far. You have defeated the Scorpion as I asked. Now, send this Onyx Dragon to the grave, where he belongs.

“I shall deliver his head on a spike, Master.”

The Lifegiver laughed, impressed with his servant’s brutality.
Good. The remaining Enkhatar will return to Eirenoch to destroy the temples, and the druids. I will provide them with the souls of the damned. Leave now and seek out your target. They will not distinguish you from the people of the island. I have commanded them to destroy all life there.

“I understand,” Akharu replied. “I only wish I could be here to witness their destruction.”

Fulfill your mission, and you will bask in my glory for eternity.

Akharu hissed with delight. “I will not fail you, Father. The Onyx Dragon will die.”

As his child’s image faded, the Lifegiver coiled his ethereal mass into a twisting vortex of black. Sulemain stood before him, anticipating the portal that would appear within the dark, spinning clouds. Two Enkhatar, those who were once the Prophet’s bodyguards, stood behind him.

“Go now,” the Lifegiver said, his voice calm and deep.

The dark clouds then opened in the center, revealing a green landscape beyond. Eirenoch had been healed; it seemed. Sulemain growled in anger, his mind focused on destroying whoever or whatever had undone the work of the Devourer.

The druids, and their allies, would pay.

“Destroy all who wield Gaia’s power,” the Lifegiver commanded.

With his two servants behind him, Sulemain stepped into the portal, fading from sight. Slowly, the mass of blackness settled into its familiar, featureless void.

Chapter Six

It was early evening when Faeraon and Maedoc appeared at Tel Drakkar. Khalid, not expecting visitors other than a few troops, was surprised to see the seer and his unknown guest. The priest, having never felt the presence of anything quite like the tall stranger that accompanied his friend, stared in awe.

The two had appeared at the top of the tower as Khalid watched the horizon for any sign of arriving soldiers. He had seen nothing all day, as was expected, but had decided to watch anyway. He enjoyed the solitude of the tower’s roof, and the view of the surrounding hills it offered.