Onyx Dragon (Book 1) (23 page)

Azim made his choice, charging the second Defiler as it unleashed its power. Around him, ally and enemy alike began to scream in pain. The sight of his men in agony tore at his heart as he approached the towering monster. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Druaga leader rise from the grass, gripping his face in agony.

Silently, he prayed to the Dragon to give him strength.

The Knights of the Dragon bounded over the weeds, charging into the battle that was raging in full fury. Brynn and Daryth saw the Defiler in attack position, and saw the men around it gasping for breath. Daryth pulled out his bow and took aim. Brynn charged with his sword raised.

Azim gritted his teeth as he struck the Defiler. His blade sliced into the creature’s flesh, sending a jolt of negative energy through him. He pulled his blade back, preparing for another strike, growling in victory as he watched the Defiler howl in pain.

Suddenly, an arrow streaked above him, striking the Defiler in the face. Then, a swordsman on horseback leaped over him, beheading the monster with a slash of his gleaming sword.

Tyrus howled in rage, his powerful allies destroyed before his eyes.

“Damn you all!” he hissed, charging the dazed Azim.

Farouk struggled to see through the haze of the Defiler’s attack. He stumbled forward, feeling his body being suddenly lifted off the ground by an unknown ally. Before he could gain his bearings, he fell into blackness.

Eamon and the rest of the Knights followed Brynn and Daryth into the battle. They were somewhat at a loss to figure out who they were siding with. The men of both sides were dressed the same, as Jindala soldiers, but he saw Erenoth pulling many of the men to safety as they recovered from the Defiler’s attack. They were without their turbans.

Brynn absorbed the energy that the Defilers released as they disintegrated. With the new found strength, he and the rest of the Knights rode through the throng, slashing and chopping at the enemy Jindala. Eamon saw the Sultan, recognizing him as the enemy he faced in the caverns the day before.

He smiled, pointing his sword at the man in challenge. The Sultan returned his smile, ignoring the stumbling Azim to face the Onyx Dragon.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” the Sultan said.

Eamon dismounted, readying his sword and staring his enemy in the eye. “Get to it, then,” he challenged.

Erenoth fought with spinning attacks, working in tandem with the Druaga as they leaped about with surprise attacks. Enemies either fell to the Priest’s blades, or when successfully dodging his attacks, were sliced to pieces by the Druaga.

Wrothgaar chopped with his axe from atop his horse, felling enemies with head-splitting blows as he rode through. Angen followed, taking down anyone who Wrothgaar missed. Daryth shot from horseback, sending his arrows all over the battlefield like streaks of lightning. Brynn had dismounted, fighting on level ground.

Azim began to get his bearings back, seeing the Prince facing off with the Sultan, their blades clashing and slicing through the air with incredible speed. He went to stand beside the Prince, giving him a nod of friendship as he raised his sword to join the fight.

The Sultan rushed forward, parrying strikes from both men as he sent his blade dancing through the air in a deadly spin. He kicked at Azim, sending the man backward, while striking at Eamon with his sword. The Prince blocked, punching Tyrus square in the jaw with his free fist. The Sultan was only mildly stunned, still able to parry the follow up attack of the Serpent’s Tongue.

Azim rushed again, attacking with a double slash. The Sultan blocked the first strike, but was not quick enough to dodge the second. He gasped in pain as Azim’s blade sliced into his shoulder. Eamon saw his chance to finish the fight. Summoning the Dragon’s power, he rushed forward with his blinding attack, slashing the Sultan across the chest in a downward arc.

Azim slashed again as well, ducking down in front and laying open the Sultan’s gut. Tyrus groaned as the two blades opened him wide, his
blood, and innards oozing out and spilling to the ground.

Azim and Eamon stepped back, watching as the Sultan slowly fell to his knees, glaring in hatred at the two men who stood over him.

“Azim,” the Sultan gasped. “You will pay for your treachery.”

“I already have,” Azim growled. “My service to you and the Lifegiver was my treachery. I pay for it now, and I redeem myself and my brother in the eyes of Imbra. And of the Dragon.”

The Sultan gasped again, his life slowly draining away. “I will see you in Hell,” He said.

Azim stepped forward and slashed downward with his blade, putting the force of both hands behind his attack. The Sultan’s head spun off of his body, blood gushing heavily from the stump of his neck.

Eamon watched the head roll to the ground, landing face up. He gasped as the Sultan’s eyes remained trained upon him. With one last smile, the life drained from the Sultan’s face.

Azim and Eamon stood staring at one another as the fighting died around them. The rebel soldiers had defeated the Sultan’s forces with the help of the Knights of the Dragon and the Druaga. Now, the three forces stood in silence, waiting to see who would speak first.

“The Dragon told me I would find you,” Eamon said to Azim finally. “He said that some of you would turn against the Lifegiver and fight with us.”

“Yes,” Azim said. “The Dragon gave us the strength and will to resist the Lifegiver’s power. The Druaga helped us to see this.”

Eamon reached out to clasp Azim’s hand. “I am Eamon, the Onyx Dragon. Prince of Eirenoch.”

“I am Azim, servant of Imbra, and now the Dragon. I and my men are at your service.”

“These men are the Knights of the Dragon,” Eamon said, introducing them by name. They greeted Azim in turn, clasping his hand in friendship.

“The dragon you saw is Erenoth, High Priest of Drakkar. He is with us as well.”

“He is a formidable warrior,” Azim remarked. “I was caught off guard by his appearance, but remembered hearing the Druaga’s stories of him. He lives up to his reputation very well.”

“Yes, he does,” Eamon agreed, turning to see the Druaga approach.

Our leader has been badly injured by the Defiler. He must be taken home to heal. We will return.

“Very well,” Eamon said with sympathy. “I hope he recovers. Your people have been very valuable allies in this battle. I thank you for your service, and for bringing these men to us.”

We are honored to serve the Onyx Dragon.

The Druaga bowed, gathering their leader up and disappearing into the grass.

Farouk opened his eyes, feeling the haze of the attack begin to subside. He looked around, seeing his men helping one another, and the Knights tending to everyone’s wounds. Azim was crouched nearby, boiling herbs over a small fire.

“Wake up, my brother,” he said. “Prince Eamon has given us healing herbs. Herbs that the Lifegiver would hate.”

The younger brother handed Farouk a cup, smiling widely at his previous statement. Farouk drank the herbal tea deeply, feeling its healing power permeate his weary body.
Slowly, his strength began to return.

“It tastes very foul,” Farouk said, wiping his mouth.

As Farouk sat upright, he saw Erenoth approach. The Priest knelt down, a look of concern in his pale blue eyes.

“Are you alright, my friend?” he asked.

“Yes,” Farouk responded, rubbing his right hand. “But I can’t seem to bend my fingers.”

Azim held his own right hand in front of his face. “My right hand is tingling,” he said. “Probably from when I struck the Defiler.”

“That explains your injury, Azim,” Erenoth said. “You have absorbed a small amount of the Defiler’s negative energy. It will heal in time once your own energy reasserts itself. But your brother was exposed to the Defiler’s attack. I fear the damage may be irreversible.”

“Probably so,” Jodocus said, appearing suddenly nearby.

The three of them turned to see the Druid sitting on a small, ornate rug.

“There is damage in more of his body than his hand,” Jodocus said. “That is the least of his problems. More importantly, he is alive. I can heal his wounds.”

Farouk smiled. “It is good to see you again so soon, Jodocus.”

“Oh, I’ve been here the whole time,” the Druid replied. “I watched the battle from right here. Of course, I couldn’t help, only observe. But I see that you made good use of the tools I gave you.”

Farouk pulled the medallion out of his tunic. “This is what protected me from the Defiler’s magic.”

“Yes,” Jodocus replied. “Somewhat, anyway. Unfortunately, it didn’t work as well for your men. They were just too far away.”

Farouk sighed, turning to Azim. “How many men died?”

“Half of them, Malik included.”

Farouk lowered his head, lamenting the loss of the one man among his warriors with enough courage to speak his heart. “He will be honored.”

Eamon approached from behind, coming into Farouk’s view and kneeling to speak. “All of your men will be honored, Farouk,” he said.

“Farouk,” Azim spoke, “this is the Prince, and these are the Knights of the Dragon.”

Farouk stood, clasping Eamon’s hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Eamon. I have waited long for this moment. Since we first landed here.”

“You are welcome at Morduin. Will you join us in this battle?”

“The Lifegiver is my enemy. I will die fighting him.”

Jodocus laughed. “No my friend,” he said. “No. I have other plans for you.”

“What do you mean?” Eamon asked, just now realizing that the Druid was even present. Wrothgaar laughed; truly glad to see the old man again.

“I would like to take Farouk with me,” Jodocus said. “I can see that his interests lie in the natural world. Besides, with his injuries, he would be of little use in battle.”

Eamon turned to Farouk. “Is this your wish?” he asked.

Farouk thought for a moment, turning to his brother for guidance. Azim clapped him on the back. “I believe it is,” he said.

Farouk nodded, finally. “Yes,” he said, eagerly. “Yes, I will go with you. I want to learn more of your discipline, and of the Dragon.”

“Good,” Jodocus said, clapping his hands together. “But I can assure you, there’s no discipline involved. Well, the whole not interfering thing—well, anyway. Say goodbye, Farouk. We leave immediately.”

Azim embraced his brother tightly, his heart sinking with
emotion; yet glad for his brother’s new path. “I love you, brother,” he said. “I know you were meant for this. Our father would be proud of you. As am I.”

Farouk began to tear. “I am glad that our men have you to lead them. I know you will lead them with honor. Our father would be proud of you as well. Take care, brother.”

“You are in good hands, Farouk,” Eamon said. “Jodocus is an interesting man.”

Jodocus laughed. “Ah yes, thank you. And you are...amusing as well.”

“Before you go, Farouk,” Eamon said, “I want you to witness something.”

Farouk looked at him questioningly. The Prince stood before Azim, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Azim,” he began, “I witnessed your fearless attack on the Defiler, and your skill against the sorcerer. You stood at my side in battle, as a Knight would stand by his King. I have need of men of your skill and bravery. I would be proud to call you my brother.”

The Knights agreed, voicing their approval out loud.

“I offer you Knighthood, Azim. Do you accept?”

Farouk was stunned by the offer. All of his life, Azim had been a man of honor among thieves and murderers. He now had the chance to prove his honor and become a Knight of legend. He nodded to Azim as the younger man looked to him.

“For our father,” Farouk said.

“I accept,” Azim answered.

“Kneel down,” Eamon said, drawing the Serpent’s Tongue from its scabbard. Azim knelt, lowering his head.

Farouk’s men began to gather around as the ritual took place. They all felt pride at seeing their co-commander receive such an honor from the Prince, a man they were sent here to dominate.

“You are now Azim,” Eamon said, “warrior of the sands, and slayer of sorcerers. Rise, brother.”

Azim rose, feeling a sense of brotherhood that had been missing his whole life. He was now a part of the Dragon, and would serve him faithfully.

As he clasped hands with his fellow Knights, he began to feel his armor change. His tunic and robes became black, ornately decorated with symbols of his homeland, intertwined with symbols of the Dragon. His sandals became boots, rising up his calves and over his knees to serve as armored greaves. He watched as his gauntlets became black and scaled like dragon skin, small horns slowly protruding along their lengths.

The brightly colored desert warrior was now a fully armored Knight, with armor that blended his former style with dragon form. He looked to the other Knights, suddenly realizing why their armor was different, yet close in appearance.

“The Dragon armor is alive, and senses my thoughts,” Azim said. “I can feel it.”