Onyx Dragon (Book 1) (25 page)

Imbra smiled. “Good. Your path is clear. You must make up for the evil you have caused and fight against the Lifegiver. But first you must prove yourself worthy of change.”

“How can I do this?” Khalid asked. “What can I do now?”

“There is a small town nearby called Gaellos. The Jindala have occupied it and have murdered many of its people. There are children imprisoned in cages in the town square. Free them, and kill as many Jindala as you can. I will then lead you to Tel Drakkar.”

“You have my word, my father,” Khalid promised.

“Then go, and redeem yourself, my child. Awaken.”

The Knights of the Dragon gathered in Eamon’s chambers, now their meeting hall. Eamon sat at the head of his table, with Wrothgaar, Brynn, and Angen to his right, and Daryth and Azim to his left. Erenoth had left to join the Druaga in their journey home.

“The Jindala have been driven out of the Kingdom,” Eamon began. “But I have the feeling they will confront us to the South near the border. We must assemble our armies along the border and await their arrival. They will most likely come at us full force. If we defeat them, then we can take the battle Southward and liberate the towns one by one.”

“That’s a good plan,” Angen agreed. “But wouldn’t marching directly on the castle be a better idea than freeing individual towns?”

“The towns we liberate will rally with us. They all have willing and able men who can join our ranks. Our armies will become stronger with each victory.”

Angen nodded, turning to the other Knights for their opinions.

“It’s a good idea,” Wrothgaar said. “By the time we reach the castle, we will number many thousands.”

“What of Queen Maebh?” Brynn asked. “From what you say, she is no longer of sound mind. No longer herself. And what of the armies of the South Kingdom? Will they fight with us, or side with the Jindala?”

Angen grunted his agreement. “Queen Maebh’s forces are probably under threat as well,” he said. “They either join the Jindala or die. Men such as hers would most likely choose to join. If they are anything like their Queen, that is.”

“I know many soldiers of the South,” Brynn added. “Some of them are family, or friends. They are just as protective of the island as we are. They will join us.”

“I hope you’re right, Brynn,” Eamon said. “If not, then this will
be nothing more than a civil war.”

Azim spoke up finally. “The Jindala are controlled by the Lifegiver,” he said, “and even they can be freed of his influence, as I and my brother were. The power of the Dragon is strong. We felt it as soon as we set foot here.”

“True,” Wrothgaar said. “But from what I gather, you and Farouk and the men who turned with you were always of this mind. The Lifegiver lost his hold on you because of your innate strength and sense of honor. What of the other Jindala? Are there others among who can boast the same strength? The same sense of honor?”

Azim was quiet. He could not think of anyone else who would follow his example.

“The men who turned with you,” Angen said, “were they different from the other Jindala in any way? I mean family, education, anything that would set them apart from their peers.”

“No,” Azim replied. “Only Malik was different. His father was murdered in front of him when he was a boy. The rest...I don’t know.”

“Who murdered his father?” Eamon asked.

“Tyrus.”

“Ah,” Eamon sighed. “Too bad he never got to see his father’s murderer put to death.”

“It was long ago,” Azim said, “and Malik was too young to have remembered him.”

“Did you witness this execution?” Daryth asked.

“Yes, and many others. It was these murders that sickened my stomach and caused me to question the will of Imbra, whom I now know was not Imbra. Even if a man was to be executed, Imbra would wish that it was carried out swiftly and painlessly. He is a kind and forgiving master.”

“And the Jindala do not do this?” Eamon asked.

“No, the purpose of their executions is to instill terror and trauma in not only the victim, but whoever witnesses the act.”

“How are they carried out?” Brynn asked.

“By beheading. Not swiftly as I did with Tyrus, but slowly. The other common method being stoning. Buried in the ground up to the elbows, then pelted with stones until they are dead.”

The others winced at the thought.

“I showed Tyrus the mercy he has never shown his victims.”

“That,” Eamon said, “is what makes you an honorable man. That is why I made you a Knight. Even though it was the first time we had ever met, I sensed the honor in you. The Dragon made it so. And I think Jodocus may have influenced that decision as well. In his own way.”

Azim smiled at the thought of the Druid, and how he took Farouk under his wing. “I hope the Druid will show my brother the path for which he was meant,” he said. “Farouk has always been inclined to enjoy the beauty of the land around him. It has always been in his blood.”

“I believe it,” Wrothgaar said. “I don’t think Jodocus would have chosen him otherwise.”

The conversation ended abruptly with a sharp knock on the door.

“Enter,” Eamon said.

The door was opened with haste, and a city guard entered. “My Lord,” he said. “Maedoc summons you and the Knights to his tower.”

Eamon stood. “Come, brothers,” he said, “Our seer awaits us.”

Maedoc’s chambers were set up differently than before. In the center of the room, a large map of the island was laid out, strangely realistic and alive. A bronze frame was erected above it, with crossbars that suspended a large, glowing orb above the map. The Knights looked at the contraption with wonder, amazed at the detail the map held, and how its surface seemed to move.

Maedoc beckoned them to close the door when they entered, and motioned for them to gather around the table. He began by pointing at the border between the Northern and Southern Kingdoms.

“An army of Jindala marches North to the border,” he began. “They will reach it in two days. They number at least three thousand, more than the army that laid siege to Morduin. And these are not just men.”

“Who are they?” Eamon asked.

“Among their ranks are two Defilers, several hundred Berserkers, and a creature whose nature I do not know.”

“Only two Defilers?” Daryth asked, jokingly. “Brynn and I will take them.”

Brynn laughed, knowing full well that the two of them could take the beasts down easily.

“Nevermind the Defilers,” Maedoc scolded. “What is important is the sheer number of Jindala, and this strange thing that travels with them.”

“Does the Dragon know what it is?” Eamon asked.

“The Dragon has been occupied of late,” Maedoc replied. “He is communing with the other Firstborn, attempting to awaken them. But the feeling I get from this new thing is similar to the Defiler, only stronger. A larger void, maybe. I do not know. Whatever the case, we have two days to prepare.”

“Good work, Maedoc,” Eamon said. “Your skills are beyond compare. Wrothgaar, find your father and inform him that we leave in the morning for the Southern border.”

Wrothgaar nodded.

“Angen, your strategic skills are needed. We need to know where the enemy will cross, and where the best place to meet them will be.”

Angen sighed, knowing that the Jindala, with a force this size, would undoubtedly march straight into the North Kingdom. “When we discover where they are going to cross, I think the best strategy would be to meet them head on, as far into our own territory as possible. The mountains south of Cael Pass would be a good place. The Rangers could ambush them as they pass.”

“Good. But the rangers must guard the coast. Brynn’s archers would be a better choice.”

Brynn nodded. “I agree,” he said. “The archers of Taryn are skilled enough for an ambush, and could fight hand to hand once the Jindala have been thinned out.”

“My pikemen can take the front lines,” Angen added. “And my infantry can double as cavalry if needed.”

“My people will be happy to kill in whatever capacity presents itself,” Wrothgaar said.

Eamon chuckled. “I have no doubt about that,” he said. “Alright, everyone to their tasks. We ride in the morning.”

Chapter Seventeen

Khalid moved swiftly through the streets of Gaellos, his robes wrapped tightly around him. To everyone else, he was just another Jindala noble, but he had to take measures to ensure that he wasn’t recognized by any soldiers that might see him. His mission was simple, free the children in the town square, and kill as many Jindala as possible.

He passed by several soldiers, nodded his acknowledgement at them before disappearing from view. Making his way through the city would be difficult. Seeing as how the Jindala here were brightly colored, his white robes stuck out like a sore thumb. He would have to find something else to wear.

Khalid ducked into an alley and hid in the shadow of the evening sun to gather his thoughts. He could easily walk into a shop and buy some new clothes, but that would probably not go unnoticed. Perhaps he could bribe a commoner for a cloak or something similar. He felt in his pockets, realizing he had no coin, and dismissed the idea.

“Damn it!” he cursed to himself.

He seemed to be out of options. His only choice was to sneak into the square, kill the guards, and free the children. He would probably get killed in the effort, but the children would be free, a riot would ensue, and he would die as a redeemed man.

That was acceptable.

He continued on, approaching the town square after a half hour or so of wandering. The sun was down now, but the square was lit. There were many guards around, perhaps a dozen or so, and walking right up to the cages and announcing his intentions was the only idea he had.

Until an odd, suspicious-looking commoner came into view.

He knew the type, he was the type; shifty-eyed, nervous, and obviously up to no good. Someone he could deal with. He waited for the strange man to look in his direction and got his attention. The man looked around to see if anyone else was in view, and quickly crossed the street to where Khalid had hidden.

The man recognized Khalid’s white robes and began to back away. “I’ve done nothin’,” he insisted. “I was just on me way home.”

“I don’t care where you were going,” Khalid said. “I need your help.”

“Aren’t you a Jindala?”

“No. Well...yes. I was. But I’m not anymore.”

“Then what is it ye need of me?” the man asked.

“I want to free the children in the town square,” Khalid said.

The man cocked his head, leaning in closer. “I’m listenin’,” he said.

Khalid reached into his tunic, suddenly remembering the cheap brass medallion he wore as his insignia. He showed it to the man, whose eyes widened with delight.

“Distract the guards for me,” Khalid said, “and this medallion is yours.”

The man took the medallion, smiling widely. Khalid noticed several teeth were missing.

“I’ll do ye one better!” the man said. “Me mates and I will really get their attention. We’ve been wantin’ to start some trouble lately. And this is a good cause. Ye got it, mate!”

Khalid nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’ll wait while you get your friends.”

“What do ye mean?” the man asked, confused. “They’re right behind me. Don’t ye see ‘em?”

Khalid saw no one, but said, “Ah yes. My mistake. Off you go.”

The man flashed his toothless grin and ran off, stuffing the medallion into his pocket. Khalid could see him approach the Jindala guards. They ignored him at first, motioning for him to move along. But the man continued taunting them, kicking dirt at them and spitting at their feet. When one of the guards raised his spear in a final warning, the man spat right in his face and the distraction began.

The man ran past Khalid, smiling slyly as he did, and the guards chased him. When they turned the corner, Khalid ran to the center of the town square as fast as he could. What he saw was horrifying.

The children were filthy and soiled with their own waste. They were lying together to conserve warmth, and looked starved and weak. Khalid’s heart sank. He knew he had caused similar suffering in the cities he had occupied, and the guilt overwhelmed him. Determined to carry out his mission, he grabbed the bars of the cage, leaning his head in between them.

“Children!” he whispered harshly. “Children, wake up!”

Some of them stirred, rubbing their eyes as they looked up at the foreign stranger.

“Who are you?” one of the little girls asked.

“I am Khalid,” the Sheikh answered. “I am here to set you free.”

The children’s eyes lit up as he spoke, the life returning to their dullness.

“Are you a Djinni?” another asked, smiling widely.

Khalid struggled for an answer, something that would please the children. “Uhhhhh...yes,” he lied. “Yes, I am Khalid the Magnificent!”

The children laughed with delight, some of them clapping their hands. Khalid continued smiling, and set about his task, his heart warm with the love he felt from the innocent prisoners.