Into Oblivion (Book 4) (26 page)

“I will not destroy you,” she said, smiling. “I am yours.”

“Igraina!” Farouk said from behind her.

The Prophet spun around, shocked at the Druid’s sudden appearance. Around him, six strange, white, and impossibly tall beings stood. Her eyes widened as she realized what they were.

“Traitor!” she hissed. “I escaped you once! I will do so again!”

She turned to Kingu, who was still transfixed upon her.

“Take me, my king!” she called raising her arms to welcome his embrace.

Farouk raised his staff in the air, blasting Kingu with a bolt of shimmering silver energy. The giant reeled in pain, shielding its face from the blast. He stumbled back, blinded, his deafening roars of pain shaking the cavern. The Prophet looked on in horror, chanting a spell to cast at Farouk in revenge.

The Defilers rushed forward, leaping into air to wrap themselves around the giant Firstborn as Farouk released another bolt at the Prophet.

“No!” she screamed.

Silver cords wrapped themselves around her as she struggled. Farouk chanted, striding toward her menacingly. He would not let her escape again.

“Your sins will not go unforgiven,” he hissed. “You have plagued this world for too long. Your Hell will be eternal. I will cast you into the Abyss!”

Igraina fell to the ground, still squirming. As Farouk stared down at her, he smiled.

“To the sea with you!”

He waved his staff into the air. Chunks of rock and metal formed themselves around her, assembling themselves into an impenetrable sarcophagus. Outside the stone, metal
melded itself over the formation in a smooth, gleaming cylinder.

“Goodbye, Prophet,” Farouk said, casting her upward into the chamber’s ceiling.

The cylinder crashed through the crystal, crushing upward through the layers of Earth until it reached the sea bed. Water began to rush into the cavern and Farouk knew that it would soon be flooded.

He looked down at the massive pool of energy that lay below. Theia was beginning to awaken. He must gather her spirit before it was too late.

“Dragon!” he called down.

Dagda looked up, still fixated on the strange creatures that had attached themselves to Kingu’s body.

Farouk waved his staff, casting a beam of green magic toward him. The Dragon raised his arms to receive the magic, relishing in its life giving power.

“Khalid!” Farouk shouted. “Come to me!”

Khalid rushed to the edge of the cavern, below the ledge. He avoided the giant’s stomping feet, carefully dodging the rocks and sea water that fell from the ceiling.

Farouk cast a spell in Khalid’s direction, pulling the priest up the ledge to safety.

“The cavern will flood soon,” he said. “You are coming back with me. Eirenoch needs you.”

“I am ready,” Khalid said.

Farouk then turned his attention to Kingu, directing another beam of impact force in his direction. His shins were shattered, and the giant went crashing to the ground. The Defilers separated from him, forming a circle around the Dragon as he knelt.

“Now!” Farouk shouted.

The Defilers summoned their power, spreading their tentacles and drawing the life force out of Kingu as he struggled to crush them. He grew smaller as his energy was drained, screaming in fury and pain as his body crumbled to pieces. His life force swirled around the Defilers as they imparted it to the Dragon.

Slowly,
Dagda stood, his body transforming to his natural state. He grew giant in size, his arms spreading out and lengthening as a membrane stretched between them. His neck lengthened and curled back as spikes protruded from his skin. His scales, once dull and grey, appeared a gleaming black as they protruded from his skin. With a roar, the Dragon announced its return.

“Dragon…” Khalid whispered. “Welcome back.”

Dagda was now his true self. He looked up at Farouk, nodding his massive head in thanks. He was now more powerful than ever, filled with the life energy of the helpless Kingu.

“Theia is linked to Gaia through the pool!” Farouk said. “You may reach the center of the Earth that way.”

The Dragon raised his head to their level, coming in closer to speak.

“Thank you, Farouk,” he said. “You have done so much to protect the world. You have my respect. And you, Khalid, your service has been unfaltering and faithful. You have protected my children and served the kingdom well.”

Khalid bowed, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “All I am now is because of you and your mercy.”

“No,” the Dragon said. “The Khalid I see now has always been there. And you
will always be a servant of that which is good. When I am gone, you will serve the king. He is now the Dragon. Goodbye, my friends.”

“Goodbye, my lord,” Khalid said, sadly. “My friend.”

The Dragon nodded to Farouk, and then turned toward the orange pool. Taking one look back, he flew into the air, diving straight into the surface. The energy boiled and splashed with his impact, enveloping the Dragon in its divine embrace.

Khalid wept.

Farouk lifted Kingu from the cavern floor with his magic. He was no longer giant in size, but only slightly larger than a man. Farouk cast him against the wall, forcing the stone to form around him, imprisoning him once more. He would remain there forever, dead but dreaming, until the Universe saw fit to end his suffering.

“A sad fate,” Khalid said. “Why not just destroy him.”

“I cannot,” Farouk replied. “It is against the laws of the Universe for a mortal to kill the divine.”

“Let us return to Eirenoch,” Khalid said, sadly. “I cannot bear to be here any longer.”

Farouk called the Defilers back to his gem. Their essence swirled around it, slowly disappearing into its green depths.

“My friends,” Farouk spoke to them. “Receive this Mother spirit into your realm. Protect and comfort her until I set her free.”

Farouk lowered his staff, pointing it toward the pool. Softly, he spoke to Theia, whose image ascended from the depths of her prison to gaze upward in wonder. Her form was humanoid, with odd features that were strangely beautiful. Her eyes were gentle and filled with the sorrow of isolation. But that soon faded as she realized that Farouk was here to set her free.

“Come with me, Theia, great spirit,” the Druid spoke. “You deserve a world of your own, not this prison. My friends need you to bring life back to their home, and they will honor you and love you as their own
Mother.”

Farouk…
she spoke, her voice an ethereal whisper.
You have freed me. Take me home. I have been here for so long.

Khalid felt her sorrow, and it heightened the sadness he felt when the Dragon had disappeared.

“You will have Alvheim, and it will be yours.”

Thank you.

Theia rose up to meet Farouk, her energy streaming into his gem eagerly. It glowed more brightly as it became concentrated, casting a shimmering orange glow throughout the cavern. Its reflection in the rising water rippled across the ceiling and walls like fire. Soon, the light faded and her entire spirit was now safely inside the gem, ready to be released into her new home.

Khalid and Farouk could feel her sense of peace.

“It is done,” Farouk said. “There is no reason to remain here any longer”

Khalid nodded. “Let us return home.”

Chapter Twenty Four

“Ships sighted!” called the lookout above. Eamon rushed to the bow with the knights in tow. He reached the railing and looked out over the sea, scanning the horizon for the enemy. He saw Jadhav’s vessel quickly slip under the waves. In the distance, the line of Jindala ships appeared. There were a dozen small warships, and one larger vessel made of iron that dominated the horizon.

“Gads, that’s a big ship,” Angen exclaimed.

“It looks like the same ship Jadhav described,” Eamon replied. “The one that carried the Enkhatar.”

Eamon heard the distant shouts of Hamal in the next ship. The man was waving to get his attention.

“Imperial battleship!” Hamal shouted. “Built by slaves of Anwar!”

Eamon glared at the vessel, seeing its huge black form come into view. It was a terrifying sight; spiked, armed with cannons, and devoid of any sails. It was a fortress at sea.

“How will we sink that?” Wrothgaar wondered.

Azim grunted. “If anyone could sink it, Jadhav could,” he said. “Besides, we have the whales on our side, I suppose.
Although I haven’t seen them.

“They may be avoiding the battle for their own safety,” Angen said. “Or maybe they are confident that we don’t need their help.”

“Man the ballistae!” Eamon called. “Archers, take your places!”

Orders were shouted from the other ships, and Eamon saw their archers lining the railings, and their gunners manning the giant arced bows of the ballistae. In the distance, the huge warship began to turn in the water, bringing its length into view.

“They’re preparing to fire!” Angen shouted.

The smaller ships were sailing forward at a faster speed, closing the gap between them and the allied fleet. Eamon could see Hamal and Ulrich both looking in his direction. Eamon nodded to them both, signaling them to let loose.

The sound of cannons and the twang of hundreds of bows filled the air. Eamon followed the arc of the cannon balls as they sailed toward their targets. The flaming arrows soared in a cloud, trailing smoke behind them as they found their marks. Two of the Jindala ships were struck, the cannon balls smashing into their hulls and setting their decks aflame. The arrows that followed caught their sails, and the two ships turned to escape.

They did not make it far.

Jadhav’s vessel broke through the surface, clipping the side of one ship with its deadly blades. The fleeing ship was torn in two. Men aboard all of the allied ships cheered as it slipped beneath the waves. Jadhav’s vessel turned toward the other ship, its blades cutting through the water like a giant, mutant shark. They slammed into the other ship’s hull, cracking it open with a splintering crash.

“Two down,” Angen said. “Ten plus one to go.”

“Eleven, then?” Wrothgaar said, smiling.

Angen pursed his lips. “Fine, then. Eleven.”

The sound of cannons roared in the distance. The giant black vessel had fired its many cannons; giant cannons that fired missiles the size of boulders. The allies watched in horror as the huge projectiles sailed through the air, barreling toward them like deadly meteors—only to stop short and splash into the water several yards away. The men aboard the ships broke into laughter.

“They’re too heavy to reach us!” Brynn said.

Eamon stood higher on the railing, directing the other ships to pick up speed. They would meet the other ships head on and blend in with them. The giant ship would be hesitant to fire if they were among its allies.

Or so he hoped.

“Full speed!” he shouted. “Fire at will!”

Azim knocked an arrow and sent it flying. Brynn, Daryth, and Brianna did the same. Though their arrows disappeared with the rest, they knew every one of them counted. They would hit something.

“Wrothgaar!” Eamon shouted. “Fire the ballista at one of the ships and pull us in.”

Wrothgaar strapped on his axe and took up the huge weapon. He attached a tow line to the bolt as the deck hands loaded it, and turned the crank to pull it back. Carefully, he looked down the sights, judging the distance and angle of arc. When the targeted ship was in his sights, he let loose the bolt.

The missile sailed slowly through the air in a high arc, bashing through the hull of the targeted ship with a loud crash.

“Ha!” Angen shouted, rushing to the Northman’s side to reel the enemy ship in. “Good shot mate!”

“Prepare to board!” Eamon shouted.

Hamal and Ulrich had done the same. Each of their gunners had caught an enemy ship and was towing it closer. Soon, the battle would be fought hand to hand, and the men would all get a taste of glory.

As the two ships drifted closer together, archers on both sides began firing. The deck hands lined the railing with shields, protecting their king and the bowman that fired back. Arrows filled the air, and the knights ducked and rolled away as they struck the wood of the decks.

“Cannons!” Eamon shouted.

Below deck, the cannons fired in unison. The side of the enemy ship was blasted to pieces above the water line, and their own cannons were now useless. There was no one left to man them.

“Archers, cover us!” Eamon shouted, drawing the Serpent’s Tongue. “For Eirenoch!”

The crew shouted their war cries, leaping to the railing of the other ship. Though the enemies fought to drive them off or chop them away, the archers of Eirenoch kept them clear so that the warriors could board.

Eamon leaped onto the deck with his knights. The enemies scattered, taking defensive positions as the black armored Knights of the Dragon came to deliver their doom. Angen and Wrothgaar immediately charged, barreling through them fearlessly and brutally. Eamon searched the deck for the captain, finding him cowering behind his men. The king charged them, appearing as a Dragon as his armor
spread over him.

He slashed at the guards, killing two of them instantly. The others attempted to flank him, but were cut down by Brynn and Daryth’s arrows. Eamon growled in fury at the captain, who drew his sword in a futile attempt to defend himself. The king charged, striking with a blinding slash that cut the captain in two. The rest of the enemies, seeing their captain defeated so easily, either jumped ship or stood frozen as they were cut down.

Soon, the ship was free of the Jindala scum. Angen lit a torch, dropping it beneath the deck, and laughed as the galley was set to flame.

“Back to the ship!” Eamon commanded.

The warriors leaped across the gap again as the Jindala ship drifted away in flames. The men cheered, signaling to the other ships that they were successful. Hamal and Ulrich’s men joined in, and Eamon saw that they had sunk a ship each.

“Seven, plus one.” Eamon said, grinning at Angen.

“Quiet you!” Angen growled.

Near the ship, a spout of water shot up as a huge, grey form came rolling over the waves. It soon passed, slipping beneath the surface again. The men watched as the dark form of the whale rammed the damaged ship, sending it over on its side.

“Well,” Eamon said. “He’s a bit late.”

The sound of cannons was heard again in the distance. The huge ship had fired, and its cannonballs, within range this time, bore down on Eamon’s ship.

“Look out!” he shouted.

The men aboard deck scrambled, waiting to see where the cannonball would strike before deciding what direction they should flee. The projectile crashed into the crow’s nest above, shattering it and killing the lookout instantly. His body sailed through the air, broken and lifeless, and landed in the water behind the ship.

“Poor Shae,” Brynn lamented. “He had the eyes of an eagle.”

“Wrothgaar,” Eamon said. “Man the ballista again.”

“Where is Jadhav?” Daryth asked, leveling his bow at the nearest ship.

“He must be preparing to attack the large ship,” Eamon said. “If he could sink the Enkhatar ship, he can sink this one.”

Jadhav glared out of the porthole of his vessel, seeing the keel of the giant ship come into view. Though much larger than the ship that had carried the Enkhatar, it was of similar structure and would require similar tactics.

“Vedic,” he said. “Prepare the blades. We will go lengthwise down the keel.”

Vedic pulled the lever that activated the blades. As he pulled they slowly raised. Jadhav waited for the right moment, when his ship was at the perfect angle. He motioned for his steersman to turn to the starboard slightly, leveling his hand when the angle was right. Then, he nodded.

The ship lurched forward at full speed, rising slowly until it was directly underneath the bow of the warship.

“Up!” he commanded.

The vessel shot upward at an angle, impacting the warship’s hull and punching a hole right through it.

“Forward!”

The blades tore through the iron next to the ship’s keel, ripping through it as Jadhav’s ship ground forward. But there was not enough momentum to tear along. The vessel was too strong.

“Submerge again,” Jadhav commanded. “We’ll come straight up. Enough holes, and it will sink.”

“Yes, captain,” Vedic said.

“Fire!” Eamon commanded.

The cannons sounded again as the enemy ships came in line with their own fleet. Their cannonballs tore into the sides of the enemy ships, and smoke filled the air. The enemy and allied ships were all now in close proximity, and the chaos of battle filled the air. Arrows flew from every direction, cannons were fired, blindly, and men leaped from ship to ship to engage the enemy one on one.

Above, the screech of dragons sounded, and the Priests of Drakkar soared down from the obscured sky to join the battle.

Jets of flame strafed the decks of the enemy ships, and the sounds of men set aflame was deafening. Eamon squinted through the smoke, seeing Erenoth transform into human shape and slice his way through to fight at his king’s side.

“Well met, Erenoth,” Eamon said as the Priest joined him.

Erenoth nodded in greeting, dispatching two attacking Jindala as they rushed him.

“I see you decided not to wait for me,” Erenoth said.

Eamon chuckled, leading his friend into the smoke to seek out more prey.

Hamal fought his way through the crowd of Jindala that had boarded his ship. He could hear his own men surrounding him, cursing at their former kin as they slew them in atonement for their own sins. He was proud of the men Eamon had provided for him. These soldiers who had rebelled and joined the forces of Eirenoch were the best swordsmen he had ever known. He would have to remember them when he sat upon the throne of Khem.

As he ran through the chaos, cutting down enemies along the way, he was suddenly thrown off his feet by the impact of a giant cannonball. It crashed through the deck, sending splintered wood in every direction. Hamal rolled back onto his feet again, attempting to stay steady as the ship lurched and pitched from side to side. The hull had been ruptured and the ship was sinking. He had to get his men onto another ship.

“Abandon ship!” he shouted.

He led his men to the railing, waiting for them to cross over before following them to the deck of the next ship. They fought off the mass of Jindala that were there to greet them, killing them quickly and efficiently. Hamal now had command of an enemy vessel.

“The Imperial ship must have fired blindly,” he said to one of his warriors. “There is no possible way anyone aboard it could have distinguished between our ships and theirs.

“Of course it fired blindly,” the man agreed. “The Jindala care nothing for their own.”

Sadly, the man was right. The
juggernaut would fire at will, destroying every ship it could; enemy or not.

“Steer us to the next ship!” Hamal commanded. “We’ll go from deck to deck until the Jindala are no more.”

Ulrich’s
crew swarmed the deck of a Jindala ship like rats. They had appeared from the smoke of the surrounding fires, leaping onto the deck and catching the enemy by surprise. Their tactic was simple; the Jarl and the larger warriors would take the deck, and the smaller warriors would flood the areas below deck, setting fire to the galley and seeking out the officers.

He calmly walked across the deck as his men pushed the enemy toward the railings. Though a few Jindala attempted to rush him, he casually knocked them aside and continued on. This would be the third ship they sacked and sank, and as far as he knew, there were only a few left.

“Knock them overboard, boys!” he shouted, smashing an approaching enemy with his hammer.

He continued on to the bow, ascending the three stairs that would give him a better view. Through the smoke, he could see the outline of the giant ship approaching fast. Once it got a clear view, it would no doubt fire.

He peered carefully at the juggernaut’s side. Even through the smoke, he could see the ports from which the cannons fired. They were open, he saw, and the cannons inside were likely loaded and ready to fire.

“Archer!” he shouted, calling on any of his men to answer his call.

A younger man appeared at his side; a rebel Jindala archer. “Yes, sir?”