Onyx Dragon (Book 1) (15 page)

“Well,” Wrothgaar said, “that was...unusual.”

The Hunters saw Erenoth transform and sail into the sky. They watched him in awe, recalling the various battles they had seen him fight in his dragon form. He was a mighty warrior, as a dragon or as a man, but his dragon form was most pleasing to them.

Now, as they watched the two men who remained, the Hunters knew that the smaller man in black was a servant of the Dragon. He bore the Serpent’s Tongue and thus wielded the power of their master. They would be the man’s servants, once again fighting alongside the Onyx Dragon.

The time to show themselves had come.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Wrothgaar said. “Is he a man, or a dragon?”

“He was a man once,” Eamon replied. “He is the Priest Jodocus spoke of at his tower.”

The Northman grunted.

“He has been the Dragon’s most trusted servant for thousands of years. Now, after all this time, his power allows him to take his form.”

“And what of the other Priests?” Wrothgaar asked.

“Draconians,” Eamon answered. “Once men, but transformed by the Dragon in order to wield his power more effectively.”

“Interesting,” Wrothgaar said. “But why—“

Before the Northman finished his thought, Eamon put his hand up to quiet him.

“What is it?” the Northman asked.

“Something is nearby.”

The two looked around, weapons ready.

“I can feel your presence,” Eamon called out. “There is no need to fear. Show yourselves.”

As the two men continued to scan the tall grass around them, a small figure stepped into view. It was cloaked in black and green, stood only half the height of a man, and its face was obscured within a black cowl. The creature was armed with twin short swords and a small bow strapped to its back. It did not appear hostile, but stood motionless and silent. Slowly, others like it began to appear, each one dressed and armed identically.

“It’s the Druaga,” Eamon whispered to Wrothgaar.

The Northman shot him a questioning glance.

“Ancient servants of the Dragon,” Eamon explained. “Our legends speak of them, saying that they tended to Dol Drakkar in the beginning, subservient to the Priests. I have never seen them before. The Dragon never mentioned them during our conversation.”

“They’re small,” Wrothgaar remarked.

“Yes, they are,” Eamon replied. “Small, but deadly. These are our mysterious watchers. The ones who slew the fleeing Jindala near the lumber mill. They’ve been following us.”

The Druaga leader stepped forward, speaking telepathically.

We are here to serve you, Onyx Dragon.

Eamon revealed the Serpent’s Tongue, kneeling down to show the Druaga that he accepted their allegiance. The Druaga bowed before him.

You have returned.

  “Yes,” Eamon replied in his own tongue. “I have returned, and I need your help.”

Ask what you will.

“Do you know the locations of all of the enemy armies?”

To the West and East of the Castle, converging upon it to lay siege. Another army lies nearby, but they do not concern us. They have not moved for a day. There are no other enemies on the island.

“What of the others who attacked my friend’s people in the North?”

They have been destroyed. The horsemen from the castle killed them, but were killed by an unknown creature. All but one.

“All but one?” Eamon asked. “Who?”

Unknown. But he carries a blade that we have seen in the past, many thousands of years ago.

“What kind of blade?”

A sword forged from iron that fell from the sky.

Eamon turned to Wrothgaar. “The Mordumarc are gone,” he said. “Killed by the creature. One of them managed to escape, but I do not know who. He has a sword that the Druaga say was forged from a meteorite.”

“Like my axe,” Wrothgaar said.

It is capable of destroying the walking void. The man who escaped killed it and rode South with other men.

“The survivor killed the Defiler and fled
south. He’s heading for the castle. We must return as well.”

Soon, a shadow crossed the ground and Erenoth descended, landing with a thud. The Druaga bowed when they saw him, showing the same respect that they had showed Eamon.

Erenoth quickly transformed back into human form, his wings falling away and reforming his cloak. His face was grim.

“The Western army has laid siege to the castle,” Erenoth reported, “blocking any exits on that side of the crags.”

“That is dire news,” Eamon replied. “Where are our armies?”

“The guards line the castle walls, keeping the enemy at bay with their bows. But they will not last. There are rangers guarding the front entrance, ready to fend off the main army. Another force of cavalry approaches rapidly from the North, with a young man at their lead. If we leave now, we could cross their paths near Morduin and break the siege.”

“Did the enemy travel with anything not human?” Eamon asked.

“Not that I saw, but I could feel a dark presence.”

“Defiler,” Wrothgaar growled.

Defiler.

Erenoth looked to the Druaga, who patiently awaited their master’s order.

“They are here to serve you, my lord,” Erenoth reminded Eamon.

Eamon turned to the Druaga leader. “Find this other army that you say hasn’t moved,” he said. “Watch them and find out why they are still there. I will send Erenoth to you when the time comes.”

The Druaga bowed and quickly disappeared into the grass.

“I want to meet up with this survivor and his soldiers,” Eamon said. “We ride to the coast. Erenoth, show yourself to the army that comes from the East. Perhaps the sight of a dragon in the sky will break their morale. We’ll need every advantage we can get.”

Erenoth bowed, transforming again and flying off to the East. Eamon and Wrothgaar mounted their horses, with Eamon taking Erenoth’s reigns.

“Let us go, my friend,” he said. “The battle awaits.”

Brynn had seen the dragon in the skies overhead, circling, and diving. He wasn’t sure of its intentions, or where it had come from, but it did not appear hostile. Perhaps Prince Eamon had made it to Dol Drakkar and had summoned it to protect Morduin from attack. It was a plausible explanation, despite the fact that the dragon did not appear to be very large. Man sized, in fact.

Whatever the case, Brynn pushed his men forward, with Angen and his troops close behind. They would reach the castle within a few hours, and would probably face an overwhelming force. The West side of the castle was their best bet for getting inside and taking defensive positions on the walls.

“Ride, men, ride!” he shouted, encouraging his men to pick up the pace. He could hear Angen pushing his men forward as well. He was glad to have the Commander with him. A veteran like Angen was a valuable asset in any battle, and Brynn would trust any decision the man would be likely to make. In the field, a master tactician was hard to find, and Angen was the best. Why he was stationed at a fairly remote outpost was anyone’s guess.

“Brynn!” Angen shouted, riding up close to the younger man. “Look ahead, to the left!”

Brynn followed Angen’s direction, seeing what had gotten his attention. Along the rear wall of rocks that formed the castle’s natural barrier, a Jindala force was gathered. They were several hundred in number, and Brynn knew that another foul creature was probably with them.

“They’re infiltrating the caverns!” Brynn shouted back. “If they break down the barriers, they’ll storm the city!”

“Ride on men!” Angen commanded. “Cut them down! Defend the city!”

Brynn’s blood boiled with rage as the cavalry approached the enemy. He could see their bodies taking shape as his men grew closer and closer, their black masks mocking him and laughing at his pain. The memories of a day past flooded back to him as he laid eyes on his enemy again. The pain of losing his brothers built up inside of him, threatening to boil his blood.

He would have his revenge.

The Jindala broke through the heavy steel Western doors as if they were paper. The soldiers of Morduin watched in horror as they were forced open with a burst of blue energy that emanated from a single cloaked figure. The creature’s energy lit the caverns with its blue light, shrouding the enemies that poured in through the jagged hole it had left.

Morduin’s soldiers stood their ground, firing arrow after arrow into the encroaching force. The Jindala fell one after another, only to be replaced by the endless flood behind them. The soldiers retreated, giving ground to the attackers, drawing them inside where the battle could be fought on level ground.

The cloaked figure entered the caverns among its allies. It towered over every man in the room, appearing as a pillar of absolute darkness among the brightly colored Jindala. Behind the monster, a tall man entered, stepping casually through the breach. He, too, was dressed in bright colors, but was elegantly armored and more sinister in appearance than the others.

His gold and red tunic was embroidered with archaic symbols, with a wide black leather belt that held his sword. His armor, similar in style to the rest of the Jindala, was gold in color, and encrusted with jewels and sharp bladed fins. He wore a white turban, ringed with a golden crown.

As he stepped through the broken gates, the Jindala archers behind him began firing past him. He drew his curved and gleaming sword, smiling as he looked over his enemies.

The soldiers of Morduin fell back again, desperate to minimize their losses. Behind them, the main gates leading into the city were beginning to open. The guard Captain turned to the gates, running to stop them.

“No!” he called. “Leave the gates closed! We cannot hold them!”

A voice called from the other side, barely audible. “Get out of there!” the voice pleaded. “The beast will kill you all!”

“Do as I say!” the Captain commanded, banging his fist on the gates. “Close them now!”

Slowly, the gates latched and the Captain and his men were trapped with the enemy. He returned to the front of the line, fighting on, watching the dark figure approach as if it were a nightmare shadow. He knew it was the end. This would be his last battle. He would die alongside his men, defending the city he loved.

It would be a good death.

Eamon and Wrothgaar crossed paths with Brynn and his company as they came within fifty yards of the crag wall. Brynn did a double take as he saw the Prince ride up to him at full speed, turning to ride alongside him.

“Eamon!” he shouted, excitedly.

“Brynn!” Eamon called to him. “You’re the one! What happened at Taryn?”

“The Mordumarc are gone!” Brynn shouted. “Killed by the creature!”

“How did you survive?”

“I’ll tell you later!” Brynn called back. “Right now we have enemies to kill.”

Eamon grinned, licking his lips in anticipation. He drew his sword, looking to see Wrothgaar hold his axe high. The three of them howled their battle cries, and the throng of men behind them did the same.

“Take the lead, my lord!” Brynn yelled to Eamon.

The Onyx Dragon took his place at the front of the line, flanked on either side by his two friends, and the veteran, Angen. The four of them appeared as messengers of death riding on into the chaos.

Jodocus smiled as they rode by.

Erenoth soared high above the massive force that marched on Morduin from the East. There were very easily two thousand men. In the distance, he could see ships just off the coast, shrouded in a strange bluish mist.

This was why no ships were spotted, Erenoth realized, the enemy was using stealth magic.

Flying low enough to let the enemy see him, Erenoth passed over and headed out to sea. As he flew closer to the ships, he saw troop carrying boats that brought the Jindala onto shore in smaller groups. There were several dozen of the boats in the water now, and Erenoth dove to attack.

With a blast of fire from his open maw, Erenoth strafed across the line, setting the boats’ decks aflame. The Jindala on board scattered, jumping overboard to douse themselves in the water.

From the ships, Erenoth could see the men cowering in fear. They pointed and shouted, aiming their bows in a futile attempt to shoot him down. He casually flew over them, scorching them with his breath. Five ships and a dozen boats were now ablaze on the sea, and the water was filled with men trying to swim to safety.

Erenoth turned for another pass, dodging arrows and firing jets of flame that engulfed the ships’ sails, spreading the devastation even further. Within minutes, the entire fleet was burning and many of the ships began to sink into the bay.

Erenoth chuckled in his dragon form and set off to his next task. Perhaps a few dives among the approaching army would scatter them a bit. It had been centuries since the Priest had had this much fun, and he wasn’t about to miss any opportunities.

Chapter Fourteen

The Queen was safely hidden in Maedoc’s tower as the Jindala army broke through into the caverns. Maedoc was at the West window, detailing to the Queen the fight that was raging below. He saw the large cavalry arrive, led by Eamon, Wrothgaar, and two other men he didn’t recognize, and was filled with hope.

“The Prince has returned!” Maedoc exclaimed. “And he has brought an army.”

Siobhan ran to the window to look, glad to see that her son was safe, and that he had gathered troops to defend the city. The only question being if it was enough. The Jindala force was large enough to make trouble for the city’s forces, and the other group of them, coming from the East, would surely number in the thousands. The Queen doubted that she had enough men to hold them off.