Onyx Dragon (Book 1) (7 page)

“These are my chambers,” Jodocus said. “Not quite as cozy as my cottage—rather eclectic I would say—but comfortable. I do my best writing and research here. Well, next to outside in the open, of course. Please sit.”

Jodocus went to a large chest underneath one of the windows, blowing the dust off before opening it. He fumbled around for a few moments, mumbling, until finally he found what he was looking for.

“Ah ha!” he shouted. “Found it.”

He turned, finding the two young men still standing.

“Oh goodness,” Jodocus lamented. “I suppose it’s a little hard to sit without any chairs.”

The druid tapped his staff on the floor again, and two chairs slid across the room and came to rest in their proper places at the table. Both men took a seat and waited, anxious to see what Jodocus had found.

The old man shuffled over to the table and set down a small pouch. He motioned for Eamon to open it.

“This was given to me by a dryad a long, long time ago, when I was actually young—I think. I do not remember, but it’s a nifty little thing.”

Inside the pouch was a large gem, light green in color, and cut to such beautiful precision that it sparkled as if it contained a light of its own. Eamon was mesmerized by its beauty.

“What is it for?” he asked, turning the gem over and over in his hands.

“It’s a soul gem,” Jodocus said. “It contains the soul of a dryad, a spirit of nature. When placed on the ground, and the dryad’s name is uttered, it will spring forth living energy. Trees will heal, grass will grow, and any other lifeless plants around it will spring back to life. You can wield all of the power of a master druid with this single stone. Within reason, of course.”

Eamon smiled. “What a wonderful gift,” He said. “This will help us heal any damage done by whatever beings travel with the Jindala.”

“Yes,” Jodocus agreed. “Use it sparingly, for its power is great. If the need arises, you can summon the power of the gem and return some life to the land. But do not give too much. Only give what is needed. We don’t want to see any trees walking around of their own accord. Trees can be feisty, you know.”

“Thank you, Jodocus,” Eamon said. “I will use it wisely.”

“One more thing!” Jodocus interjected, going back to his chest. “This is for both of you.”

Jodocus brought back a large pouch inscribed with druidic symbols. “These are healing herbs,” he explained. “Prepare them like tea and drink it hot. It will replenish you when you are weary, and will help you heal when you are injured.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Eamon said. “You have been very helpful to us. How can we ever repay you?”

Jodocus sighed. “Speak to the Dragon and fulfill your destiny as your Grandfather’s successor. That is all I ask. I know you are strong enough to do so. And you, Wrothgaar, see that Eamon makes it safely to Dol Drakkar. The rewards to you will be great as well.”

“I will,” Wrothgaar promised. “And I will tell my people of how you helped us.”

Jodocus smiled. “Thank you, my friend. Now, it is getting late and the two of you should rest. You may stay here for the night and help yourself to all the food you like. When you awaken, I will be gone. I have business elsewhere on the island.”

“Where will you go?” Eamon asked. “And how can we find you if we need your help?”

“I will be where I need to be. This is my battle, as well, and I must do my duty to maintain the balance. I will do whatever I can to do so. If you need me, don’t bother calling for me. I will have already been there.”

Jodocus winked, fading from sight.

“Well,” Wrothgaar said. “I guess that answers your question.”

Farouk stepped off of the small rowboat as it pulled up on the Eastern shore of Eirenoch. He removed his armored turban, letting his long, black hair loose to flow in the breeze. Despite his heavy, woolen tunic and cloak, and the armor that chaffed his skin, the small gesture made him feel a little like himself again.

There was a chill in the air that made him uncomfortable, but the beautiful landscape put a smile on his face as he took it all in. It was quite different from his desert homeland. There were trees and bushes the likes of which he had never seen before, and even the cliff wall that rose before him was home to a wide variety of birds and flowering plants.

He looked to the sky, which was overcast and gray. The sun was barely discernable, but Farouk found it comforting. In his homeland, the sun beat down from the sky like a hellish orb of fire. Here, it was cool and unobtrusive. The change was quite refreshing.

He looked back at his men as they scrambled to disembark, and saw his brother Azim strapping on his sword and bow. The Jindala warriors were impressive and deadly, but Azim was a master swordsman and archer, and could best any man in combat. He felt fortunate to have Azim with him, as the two had always been close, even for brothers. Azim’s demeanor was one of rationality and compassion, two qualities that always brought Farouk comfort in such a chaotic world.

“Off! Off!” Farouk commanded, waving his arms toward the cliffs. “We make camp here for the night.”

The beach was secluded, perfect for massing troops. The other groups of Jindala, including the Diplomats, had made camp here, and their gear was still present. Lavish tents lined the beach, each one complete with comfortable beds and other reminders of home. Farouk’s men would be grateful for a good night’s rest on dry land. Their many days at sea had taken their toll. The Jindala were not seafaring men.

Azim came and stood next to his brother, watching the men unload and make their way toward the camp. “The men will be fine to travel in the morning,” he said. “They are strong, and your leadership inspires them.”

Farouk said nothing, but continued watching them. He felt an uneasiness overcome him. Not an uneasiness caused by the chill anymore, but something he couldn’t describe. Almost like a feeling of abandonment. There was something missing here in this land. And something present that he never felt in his homeland. He was too far from home, and the soul of this island was unfamiliar and different somehow. He could feel it.

“Are you alright, my brother?” Azim asked, concerned as always.

Farouk shook off the feeling as best he could, smiling at his brother. “I am fine, Azim. Thank you. Go find a good place to rest. I’ll join you once the men have disembarked.”

As Azim turned to leave, Farouk wondered if his brother was feeling the same sense of loss. He didn’t dare ask. Such feelings would be considered blasphemy, and Farouk would be executed as an infidel. He would not say anything for now. He would do as The Livegiver asked, and force the people of Eirenoch into submission. That was why he was here.

Chapter Seven

What news?” Fergis asked the two rangers who had returned from their scouting.

“The attackers split up here,” One of them reported. “One group went
south toward Gallot. The other, the larger of the two, went southwest. They may be heading for the castle. The tracks are still fairly fresh, only a few days old, so they must have departed shortly before the destruction was discovered.”

“Were there anything other than human tracks?” Fergis asked.

“No, not that we could see.”

“Good work, men,” Fergis said. “Follow the group heading
southwest and stay hidden. When you are sure where they are headed, report to your own Captain. Kuros will decide whether to ambush the attackers. If not, the city guards will protect the walls until we return. We will follow the other group toward Gallot and attack them there. I have a feeling they travel with our mysterious killer. If this monster is as dangerous and powerful as we think, it could make up for the lack of a larger army.”

“Agreed,” The ranger said. “Good luck, Fergis.”

“Mount up!” Fergis commanded his men. “We ride to Gallot!”

Kuros stayed hidden behind a high, rocky knoll as he watched the caravan approach the mouth of Cael Pass below him. Even in the dim light of dusk, he could see them clearly.

There were twenty men, two of them on horseback. He scanned the group carefully, noting their elaborate and colorful clothing, and general non-military demeanor. They were not armed for combat, either, but for self-defense. Very few of them carried military weapons, and those were undoubtedly personal guards.

Even so, the armed men were still adorned in silk robes, sandals, and neatly wrapped head wear. They were most likely diplomats. Soldiers would not wear such elaborate clothing.

“I do not see any weapons,” Daryth said. “Nothing useful in combat anyway.”

“Not in plain sight, no,” Kuros agreed. “But most of the elaborately dressed men are carrying swords under their robes. The others, only daggers. Their leader, the one on the black horse, has a ceremonial sword. But it’s far too ornate to be anything but decorative.”

“What should we do?” Daryth asked.

“We will go to Morduin and stay hidden in the forest nearby. If my guess is correct, this is a diplomatic envoy. Attacking them could incite a war.”

Daryth nodded, looking over the caravan once more. “I have the feeling it is coming either way. They do not look friendly.”

“No. But the Queen may want to hear them,” Kuros said. “Come. Let us return to the castle. We will be wary of their presence and stand guard just inside the forest. If these diplomats are leading the way for a military force, we need to stand ready.”

“With the Mordumarc gone,” Daryth began. “We will be all that stands in the way of a siege.”

“Right,” Kuros agreed. “We can only hope they return soon. The city guards are ill prepared for an outright battle. We must protect the city from the outside.”

“Agreed,” Daryth said. “I will send a messenger to gather the other companies of rangers and rally them to the compound. If we must fight in open battle, we will need all the men we can muster.”

“Good,” Kuros replied. “Send him now. Stealth is not an option at this point. Have him return to the compound first and find a good horse. Time is critical.”

Daryth nodded and returned to the awaiting rangers. Kuros remained, eyeing the caravan once more. He couldn’t help feeling that another force was close behind them, or at sea, fully armed and ready to lay siege to the castle. Something was happening in Eirenoch, and even the wildlife seemed fearful.

Once again, he hoped the Mordumarc would return soon. They would be needed.

Fergis spotted the Southward group of Jindala a few hours after sundown. The enemy was on foot so had not traveled far since leaving the ruined village.

They were about fifty men strong, only half of the cavalry’s number. But they were armed, and dressed in decorated armor. No other enemies were present, only men.

“I was wrong,” Fergis lamented to Brynn. “The creature travels with the larger group.”

“That’s bad news,” Brynn added. “If they have brought something that powerful with them to the castle, then we must return. The city guard will not be able to fend off an enemy that strong.”

“Agreed,” Fergis said. “We will return.” Then, he drew his sword. “But not before sending these devils back to Hell.”

Brynn drew his own sword, and shouted to the troops. “Line up!”

The men lined up behind Fergis and Brynn, licking their lips in anticipation. Fergis issued the final command.

“Charge!”

The riders charged at full speed, swords ready, shouting their battle cries into the night. The Jindala were startled, scrambling to their feet to ready their weapons. The thundering of the horses’ hooves drowned out their screams as the Mordumarc plowed through them, throwing their mangled bodies into the ground. Those who were lucky enough to dodge the charge scattered to the outside of the camp.

Brynn drew and fired his bow several times in rapid succession, striking an enemy with each arrow. Fergis dodged an enemy’s spear, lopping off the man’s head in the same motion. The others gave chase to the enemies who tried to flee, running them down one by one. The Captain rushed them as well, Brynn following close behind. He could hear the younger man’s bow making short work of his targets.

Within mere minutes, the Jindala were annihilated. The corpses of all fifty men lie bleeding on the grass, and the victors gathered among them. Brynn raised his bow in triumph, and the other riders joined him, shouting in victory.

Fergis rallied his men around him, breathless with the excitement of battle.

“Well done, men!” he shouted. “But this was an easy fight. The others we will encounter may not be defeated so quickly.”

Brynn turned to him, strapping his bow back to his saddle. “Your orders, Captain?”

“We will hunt down the larger group that was headed southwest. They are traveling slowly, so we may head them off before they even reach Morduin. We will delay returning to the castle until the approaching army is eliminated.”

Brynn nodded, ordering the men to ride. The Mordumarc charged off to the West, eager to engage the enemy once more.

Eamon and Wrothgaar departed Jodocus’ cottage at dawn. They felt renewed and strong once more, having gotten a well-needed night’s sleep. There would be little time for rest for the remainder of the journey, as the road would soon become rocky and desolate as they approached Dol Drakkar. The forest, and its comforts, would be far behind them.