Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5) (9 page)

Below, on the darkened streets, a small procession of acolytes made its way along in a slow, steady march. Behind them, a horse-drawn carriage followed, its driver staring ahead with a blank expression. Garret looked closer at the procession, seeing that they were armed with hidden blades. They were not acolytes at all, he realized. They were assassins.

Who were they escorting?

Akharu leaped across the street to a rooftop on the opposite side, landing silently and gracefully. The demon then began following the carriage closely, stalking it like a tiger stalks its prey.

Whoever was in the carriage, Akharu was here to kill them.

Garret broke into a silent run, leaping across the gap and gliding onto the rooftop near Akharu. The demon was unaware of his landing, and continued on. Garret ran to the edge of the building, dropping to the alleyway below. Keeping to the shadows, he rounded the building and crept up near the street just in front of the procession.

He briefly waved his hand into the dim torchlight to catch the attention of the lead assassin. The man looked up as he saw the flash of skin, keeping his face hidden in his cowl. Garret then curled his hand into his former guild’s call sign; his middle fingers curled and touching his thumb, the outer fingers pointed into bull’s horns.

As he saw the assassin return the symbol, Garret pointed his thumb in Akharu’s direction. The assassin nodded briefly, and the procession passed.

Garret crouched in the shadows, waiting for Akharu to make his move. He was thankful that the guild was still in order and that assassins around the world were still allied. If the assassin in the lead had not recognized his hand signal, he would have blown his chances to ambush the demon later on. As it stood, the assassins were now aware of a threat, and would be prepared to defend their charge.

Whoever it was.

Above, Garret heard quiet scuffling as Akharu leaped across to the next building. The procession stopped, as if they had reached their destination. Garret saw that a notary office was located on the far side of the street, and a small man had opened the door to greet the visitors.

“It’s about time!” the small man scolded.

The assassins remained in their positions as the driver jumped down from the carriage to open the door for its occupant. A well-dressed man stepped out, as noble as any man Garret had ever seen. He was dressed in lavish robes that were gilded with shining trim and embroidered with golden threaded sigils. Garret recognized the crossed sword symbol of the royalty of Thyre. This man was obviously one of Tregar’s advisors; or something of the sort. Why the assassins were escorting him was anyone’s guess. But then, they were dressed as acolytes, anyway, so the entire entourage was confusing.

Then, as the man opened his robes, Garret could see the reason behind Akharu’s interest. At the noble’s side, hanging in a beautifully engraved scabbard, was a blade that was familiar to every assassin in the world; an obsidian dirk. Garret’s eyes widened as he beheld it. Never before had he seen one this close. Such a blade held awesome power, no matter who wielded it. With a blade like this, even the lowliest of fighters could best someone like the Onyx Dragon, or even Garret himself.

This was Akharu’s target.

Of course. It made perfect sense. Knowing that the Onyx Dragon bore the Serpent’s Tongue, even a demonic assassin like Akharu would need a blade of this nature. Not that the demon was unskilled with a blade, but against a foe who was the blood son of a Firstborn, such a blade would be needed to finish the job quickly.

Akharu must not have it.

“Master Teryk!” the nobleman said, rounding the carriage. “I have come at your request. What is this business with Anwar?”

The small man shook his head, looking around nervously. “Not here,” he said. “Come inside.”

The nobleman turned to his driver. “Wait here.”

Suddenly, a shadow moved across the rooftops, and Garret knew Akharu had sprung into action. Garret dashed into the street, drawing his blade and signaling the assassins that the trouble had begun. Akharu’s dark form descended toward the nobleman like a bat, his cloak looking like a pair of leathery wings as he closed the distance.

The assassins threw back their cloaks, drawing their own blades as the demon landed on top of his target. With a single thrust of his dark blade, Akharu impaled the nobleman through the chest. Teryk screamed, running back into his office and latching the door.

Garret leaped into the air, spinning into position to jab at the demon as he rose. Akharu knocked his blade away, rolling onto the street. He was immediately surrounded by the assassins, who appeared unsurprised at his appearance.

Akharu took a scorpion stance, beckoning his attackers with his free hand. “Come then,” he hissed. “I will take all of you at once.”

“You will not take the blade,” the lead assassin said. “It is not for you.”

Akharu laughed. “I will take all that I wish; your souls included.”

Garret threw back his hood, taking a place in the circle of assassins. “Then you will have to kill all of us,” he said.

“Garret,” Akharu said, mockingly. “I’m so glad you could join the fight. I fear that these petty cutthroats aren’t enough sport for me.”

The six robed assassins then struck in unison. Akharu sidestepped the first blow, batting away the others with his blade. Garret struck next with a double diagonal attack. Akharu parried both, spinning around to fend off the other assassins. When one of them followed up, the demon blocked and countered with a kick to the chest that knocked the assassin away.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Akharu hissed, lunging at Garret.

Garret parried his strike, countering with a spinning thrust. Akharu dodged just in time, jumping back and surprise attacking one of the assassins. His blade impaled the man through the gut, and was then quickly pulled out to slash at the next assassin. Though the assassin blocked his attack, it was fierce enough to disarm the man. Akharu followed through with a quick thrust, catching the man in the throat.

Two assassins were now dead.

The remaining four struck with feint attacks, forcing Akharu into a spin that led him directly into Garret’s range. The assassin struck low, catching the demon right behind the knee. Akharu howled in pain, blindly slashing backward to guard his escape.

With one wild leap, the demon shot up into the darkness, landing somewhere on the rooftops above. The assassins began to give chase, each of them mounting the walls in an attempt to climb up after him.

“Let him go,” Garret warned. “He is beyond your skills.”

The assassins dropped back to the ground, facing Garret as he knelt to retrieve the obsidian dirk.

“Who are you, brother?” the lead assassin asked.

“I am Garret of Eirenoch,” he replied. “Once a member of the Brotherhood, to whom I was known as Scorpion.”

“Scorpion?” the assassin asked. “Surely that cannot be true. You would be in your sixties by now.”

Garret chuckled, admiring the blade he now held in his hands. “I am. But I serve the Great Mother now. I am sorry about your friends, and for whoever this was.”

The lead assassin looked to the crumpled body that lay lifeless on the notary’s door step. “He was a decoy,” the assassin replied. “Dressed to mimic our former Grandmaster.”

“Former?”

“Yes. Our Grandmaster died three years ago. We have been leaderless ever since.”

“Why were you here at this office?”

“To retrieve a contract,” the assassin replied. “An official contract drawn up by King Tregar himself.”

Garret nodded. “I won’t ask.”

The assassin approached Garret, his face seeming hopeful. “We need leadership,” he said. “Without a Grandmaster assassin, we are simply murderers for hire. We could use you.”

Garret shrugged. “When I fulfill my mission,” he said. “I may consider it. But, as it stands, that demon is my current target. He is on a mission of his own, and I must stop him.”

“Then you will need that blade,” the assassin said. “It is yours. Thank you for your help.”

Garret strapped the blade onto his belt, drawing his own dirk and holding it out for the assassin to take. “Then I will no longer need this,” he said. “Consider it a gift from your possible Grandmaster. If I return, I may want it back. If not, then it is yours to keep.”

The assassin smiled, taking the blade and admiring its craftsmanship. “Where did you get this?” the assassin asked.

“It was a gift from my former king. I have a new king now, and he is under my protection. I must seek him out. He is the demon’s new target.”

“Very well,” the assassin said, nodding. “If you decide to return, come to Thyre. We will find you.”

“Good,” he said, then, bowing to his new friends, “I take my leave. May the shadows guide you all.”

With that, he disappeared into the alley, leaving the assassins behind. As he made his way through the darkness, his senses told him that Akharu was rapidly increasing the distance between them. The demon’s ability to travel was much faster than Garret’s own, and he wondered why the Great Mother had not opened any portals for him lately. Perhaps she was growing far too weak, he thought. Or maybe she no longer had any use for him.

Sighing, he continued on, following Akharu’s trail as closely as he could. The demon would reach Eamon first, he knew, but he had to push on.

Eamon’s life depended on it.

Akharu raced across the rooftops in rage, indiscriminately gutting every city guard he saw. He had murdered at least ten of them since his escape, and would murder even more of them as he made his way to the edge of the city.

He growled to himself as he thought of how Garret had thwarted his plans to take the blade. The bastard of an assassin would pay the next time they met. The trail of bodies that the demon left behind would ensure that the meeting would happen. Akharu looked forward to it.

As the city walls finally came into view, Akharu leaped from the last building, landing squarely against the flat stone surface. He shimmied up quickly, mounting the battlements, and stopped. In the distance, the crest of a small mountain range loomed in the moonlight, marking the edge of the desert. On the other side of that range, lay the kingdom of Khem. There, Eamon and his troops were crossing the desert on their way to the Great Pyramid.

Under his breath, Akharu vowed to stop the Onyx Dragon in his tracks; the remainder of them be damned.

Eamon would never make it to the city of Khem.

Chapter Ten

Brynn’s eyes fluttered as he felt the warm and healing energy fill his body. The overload of power he had received upon slaying the giant defiler had lessened, and his body began the slow process of settling into a normal rhythm. He had not dreamt while he was asleep, nor had he even realized that he was unconscious. He had simply beheaded the creature, and fell into a deep blackness he could not even begin to describe.

He slowly became aware of his heartbeat. It was steady and strong, as it had always been. He gained control over his breathing, forcing it into deep, even breaths. His sense of touch, though somewhat stunted, was returning. Through the haze of pain he could feel someone’s hand on his forehead. It was a comforting feeling, one that almost seemed to pull him out of the darkness.

Brynn began to feel the presence of others around him. He could hear their breathing, their subtle shuffling, and even the voice of someone unfamiliar to him. He could not make out any words, but knew they came from a stranger; a man whose voice was quiet, soft, and almost kingly.

As his eyes finally opened, Brynn focused on the face that hovered over him. It was Farouk. The druid was seated on the edge of the bed; his hand on Brynn’s forehead, and his staff lying across Brynn’s chest. The healing energy he felt flowed from the green gem at its tip in a slow, wispy stream. Farouk had healed him, he knew, and he was glad to see the druid.

“Welcome back, my friend,” Farouk said. “We thought you had perished.”

Brynn swallowed, trying to gather the strength to speak. But Farouk shook his head. “Rest, Brynn. You need to regain your strength. Sleep again if you can.”

Brynn nodded, but looked around the room at the source of the voice. He saw only a tall, cloaked man, with a smaller cloaked figure. Both of their faces were obscured by cowls, and Brynn’s weakness prevented him from asking who they were. Sighing, he looked back at Farouk and nodded weakly.

He was soon asleep again.

“How is he?” Eamon asked Farouk as he and the two Alvar emerged from Brynn’s room.

“He will live,” the druid said. “The defiler’s power was just too much for him. But he will recover soon.”

“Good,” Eamon said. “Now please introduce us to your friends.”

As Farouk turned to his companions, they lowered their cowls. Eamon’s eyes widened as he saw them. The man was almost divine in appearance, his features as noble as any god. His companion, an equally divine woman with long, flowing crimson hair and eyes as green as emeralds, left him even more awestruck. She was the most beautiful woman Eamon had ever seen. Her appearance alone sent his heart into a flutter, and his breath into quick, shallow gasps. He felt compelled to look away, as if he was not worthy to gaze upon her.

“This is Faeraon,” Farouk said. “King of the Alvar. And this is his daughter, Allora.”

Eamon raised his eyes once more, staring at Allora with timid and frightened eyes.

“You,” he stammered. “You were the banshee.”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice sending chills up Eamon’s spine. “I was. But your friends brought me back to the light. For that, I am grateful.”

Eamon was speechless. He was struck not only by her beauty, but by the fact that was once a terrifying creature that had haunted his lands for countless years.

“Allora is a mage,” Farouk said. “Something like the druids of this world. She came here thousands of years ago to find the Mother spirit that Khalid and the Dragon found in the depths of the Earth. It was Tyrus who killed her and cursed her to haunt Eirenoch.”