The Ascent (Book 2) (13 page)

“Azim,” Brynn said, nudging him on the shoulder. Daryth, having returned to his feet, approached as well.

“Azim,” Brynn said again. “Are you alright?”

Slowly, Azim came to his senses, seeing the archers around him staring. Some of them were still engaged in the fight below, sending their arrows down in waves. But, for the most part, the knight had their attention.

“I’m alright,” Azim answered finally. “We should get to the docks. The Jindala are swarming in.”

Brynn nodded. “Men!” he called. “To the docks.”

Eamon stood in the shallows, poised for battle as the Jindala rushed toward him. Wrothgaar and Angen were at his side, and the foot soldiers of Bray stood at their flanks. The Jindala fell one by one as arrows streaked in from the approaching mass of archers. The bodies of the enemy floated atop the bloodied water, becoming obstacles for the attackers.

Above, Titus continued his assault on the ships, crippling the final vessels beyond repair. Their decks and mast were cinders, and their crews had abandoned ship in favor of fighting face to face. The fleet’s destruction was assured, and Titus had served his purpose well.

As the Jindala reached shore, they met with the combined defensive forces. Eamon and his warriors cut them down as they struggled to get to dryer ground. Though at a major disadvantage, the attackers fought fiercely and with more skill than those that had previously occupied the town. They were specialized forces, with black tunics and steel plates, and a voracious appetite for conflict. They growled and snarled like animals as they rushed the forces of Bray.

Eamon dodged a spear thrust from the lead warrior, countering with an upward thrust of the Serpent’s Tongue that laid open his attacker’s chest. He kicked the dying man out of the way and quickly slashed the next in line. From the corner of his eye, he could see his friends engaged in their own dance of death. Wrothgaar’s axe swept high and low, felling the dazed Jindala one after another. Angen’s massive sword cut through the water as he attacked, sending walls of blood-colored droplets into the air.

Blue and green streaks of energy plowed into the middle ranks, telling the Prince that Azim and Daryth had arrived from the cliff tops. The battle cries of their warriors mixed with those of the foot soldiers, and the glorious sound fueled the defenders to press on. Soon, the entire defensive force was blocking the port, atop the docks and in the shallows. The Jindala were now crowded in the water, fighting to gain ground and push the battle out of the marshes.

“Keep them back!” Eamon shouted, slashing at the nearest enemy.

Arrows flew from the flanking archers and into the rear ranks of men in the water. The defenders fought hard in the red colored surf, navigating amongst the floating bodies of Jindala. Azim, Daryth, and Brynn pushed their way to the front to fight next to their brothers. The Knights of the Dragon, assembled at the head of the defensive force, were a fearsome sight to behold. Yet, the elite Jindala fought on.

The enemies formed a wall of spear points at the front of their ranks, marching forward through the muck in a tightly-packed formation. Angen, with his great sword, hacked and chopped at the spears, cutting his way through and thrusting his blade forward. Wrothgaar’s axe did the same, knocking away or splitting the spears that were thrust at him. Brynn and Daryth continued to fire their bows into the line, felling the spearmen one after another. Finally, the line was broken, and the knights and their allies formed a wall of their own.

The Jindala were driven back, losing the ground they had gained. Those that were at the rear were forced into deeper waters, having to stand on their toes to keep their heads above the waves. Eamon saw them bobbing up and down to avoid drowning, holding on to each other in desperation.

“Farther!” he yelled. “Drive them into the water!”

Suddenly, the waters amongst the massed Jindala exploded. Bodies were flung high into the air with an unseen impact, and the rain of water that followed obstructed the view.

“What was that?” Wrothgaar asked.

No one could answer. The knights and the Jindala themselves were dumbfounded. However, Titus, having made a swoop across the enemy ranks, settled calmly on the rocks nearby. He sat unmoving, as if waiting for something.

Before Eamon could issue the order to press on, the Jindala began scream. Many of them were dragged underwater by some unseen force, only to resurface seconds later in a cloud of blood.

Azim, seeing the carnage, smiled. “I’ve seen this before!” he called. “Fall back!”

Eamon did not question Azim’s words. “You heard him!” he yelled. “Fall back!”

As the defenders retreated into shallower marshes, they all looked to the sea behind the disappearing Jindala. The surface of the water began to bubble and churn, as if something were surfacing. Eamon could only guess that some beast had come to feed on the men in the water. Though a welcome help, the fact remained that a ravenous beast would not distinguish between the two forces.

“Keep out of the water,” He warned.

Eamon looked to Azim, whose smile remained. The former Jindala captain looked to him, urging him to keep watching the churning sea. Eamon watched carefully as the bubbling increased. Strange, rounded objects began to emerge, along with what appeared to be masts and rudders. Eamon looked on with wonder.

A ship that could sail underwater!

“What is it?” he asked Azim.

“The Radja,” Azim replied. “These are the pirates the people of Bray speak of. They have returned.”

Eamon looked back to the ship. It was fully surfaced now, appearing as a strange contraption of spheres, spikes, oars, and other nautical equipment, all bound together in a form that could easily slip beneath the waves. The people of Bray were in awe. Though the Radja regularly visited and had dealings with the town, never before had they brought such a vessel. It was an object of wonder, and it inspired them all.

As the last of the Jindala floated lifeless to the surface, strangely garbed men also began to surface, knives and spears in hand. They were strangely dressed, with grayish, leather-like suits and strange gear whose function Eamon could only guess. They slowly made their way to the shore toward the knights, nodding respectfully and bowing in friendship. The closest of them, removed his blue-green face mask, revealing dark skin, a long beard, and a mustache that remained curled at the ends despite him having been underwater.

He approached Eamon confidently, smiling, and finally spoke in the tongue of Eirenoch.

“Greetings, my friend,” he said. “I am Jadhav, and these are the Radja.”

Eamon smiled and took the man’s hand. “It’s good to meet you, Jadhav,” Eamon said. “I am Eamon, crown prince of the Northern Kingdom.”

“I know who you are,” Jadhav replied. “I have been waiting for you and your knights.”

Eamon stopped short, eyeing the foreigner curiously. “You’ve been waiting?” he asked. “Why?”

Jadhav chuckled, clapped Eamon on the shoulder. “I am the Raja of Pashir,” he said. “So we are peers, it would seem. I have been posing as a privateer for many years now in an effort to gather allies to lay an assault on The Lifegiver’s Great Pyramid. When he is defeated, I will take back my throne and lead my people out of the darkness. As I said, these men are the Radja; elite warriors from a long line of what you would call knights. They are the descendants of nobles from ages past, and they have taken an oath to protect the people of all cultures from oppression, no matter what their beliefs.”

“That is a noble cause,” Wrothgaar said, nodding to Jadhav.

“Indeed it is,” the Raja replied. “They serve me faithfully, despite the fact that a usurper sits upon my throne in Pashir. He is not the true Raja, only a servant of The Lifegiver.”

“Then we are indeed allies, Jadhav,” Eamon agreed. “I plan to unite the north and south kingdoms of Eirenoch and claim the throne. If you would help us, then we may continue to our ultimate goal and destroy this demon once and for all.”

Jadhav smiled, extending his hand once more. “I agree,” he said. “Consider myself and my men at your disposal. Our swords and our ships are yours.”

Eamon took Jadhav’s hand again, looking into the man’s eyes. What he saw was a man of great passion and honor. He would make a great and powerful ally, and with his ships, could be instrumental in capturing Faerbane and protecting the coasts.

It seemed the tide had turned for the better.

Chapter Eight

Khalid,” Erenoth whispered as he nudged the newly born priest. “Wake up, my friend. It is time to begin your crusade.”

Khalid opened his eyes, seeing the face of his friend hovering over him. He was in his bed, still in his priest’s robes, and Erenoth sat on the edge.

“What happened?” Khalid asked.

“You are a Priest of Drakkar now,” Erenoth replied. “The High Priest of Tel Drakkar, to be exact. You have been infused with the blood of the Dragon.”

“I feel terrible,” Khalid complained. “I feel like I drank a cask of wine by myself. And I’m saying this from experience.”

Erenoth chuckled. “I know how that feels as well, in both cases. And you are correct. It’s a very similar feeling. It will pass.”

Khalid yawned, rolling onto his side, away from Erenoth. “If it’s all the same to you I think I’ll sleep it off.”

Erenoth stood, pulling the blankets off of Khalid with a single tug. “Up now, Khalid!” he said firmly. “It is time.”

Khalid turned to look Erenoth in the eye. He blinked several times to clear his vision, shocked at what he saw.

There stood a dragon.

Khalid bolted upright, startled. “What in the name of....what....?”

It is I, Erenoth.

“You’re a dragon!?” Khalid asked, confused.

I am a priest like you, but I have been one for thousands of years. As your power grows, you will be able to transform as well.

“I’m still dreaming,” Khalid insisted, not entirely sure what was happening.

Watch me.

Khalid looked up, staring the dragon in the face. Before his eyes, Erenoth shifted forms, morphing into the Erenoth he knew. The Erenoth that looked like a man.

Khalid shook his head, still not quite sure if he was awake or dreaming.

“If you are to be the High Priest of Tel Drakkar,” Erenoth began, “then you are going to need acolytes; initiates who will eventually become your priests. I have six, and so shall you.”

Khalid stood, nodding in agreement. “Where will I find these priests?” he asked.

“We will go to the mine to the east,” Erenoth explained. “A small troop of Jindala has captured it and they hold the miners there prisoner. The inhabitants of the mine were once loyal subjects of the Dragon, and frequented this temple in the old days. They will do so again, and their strongest would make excellent acolytes. But the choice is yours.”

“I like that idea,” Khalid replied. “It’s another chance to show the people, and the Dragon, that I have changed my ways.”

Erenoth smiled at his friend. “You have already done both by making a vow to serve the Dragon. But this will be your chance to introduce yourself to your flock.”

“My...flock?”

Erenoth chuckled. “Your congregation, then,” he said. “Once you free the miners, they will assist you in rebuilding the temple. They are all master craftsmen and skilled with stone.”

“Alright, then,” Khalid agreed. “I am ready.”

Erenoth nodded, beckoning Khalid to follow him to the throne room. Khalid did so, fascinated once again to see Erenoth transform into the dragon.

Climb onto my back. We’ll get there faster this way.

“Alright, my friend,” Khalid sighed. “But I’m not as light as I used to be.”

He climbed onto Erenoth’s scaled back, taking a place behind his wings and between two spines. When he was settled, Erenoth let loose a mighty roar. From above, dust began to fall, and a loud grinding noise echoed throughout the chamber. Khalid looked up to see the ceiling opening to a wide shaft through which sunlight filtered down.

Off we go.

Khalid held on tight as Erenoth flapped his leathery wings and sailed upward through the shaft. Khalid breathed in the fresh air, made warm by the afternoon sun, and felt his spirits lifted. The sensation of flying was exhilarating, making his heart pound and his breathing quicken. He laughed out loud as the two of them rose above the tower’s exit. The view from aloft was amazing. He could see for miles around, and knew that the beauty of this land was his to call home.

At last, he had found his place in the world.

How are you doing back there?

“I am speechless,” Khalid yelled over the wind as Erenoth banked and headed east. “I’ve never felt anything like this since I climbed Rajtal’s tower in my youth.”

Who is Rajtal?

“The former Emperor of Kursh, a land to the east.”

And why did you climb his tower?

“His daughter was up there!” Khalid replied, laughing.

Erenoth roared with dragon laughter, diving down to give Khalid a small jolt in jest. Khalid laughed again, patting Erenoth’s neck.

“Easy, friend,” he said, smiling. “I’m a lot older now and my stomach is not as strong as it used to be.”

You’ll be fine. Hold on.

Erenoth shot faster through the clouds. The ground below streaked past quickly, even from this height. Khalid gritted his teeth as the wind rushed around him, blowing his hair and causing his lips to flap. He laughed as he imagined how he must look; a nobleman of Khemite origin riding a dragon through the clouds. What would his father think?

“If only my father could see me now,” he yelled.

What would he think?

“I think he would be proud of my current life,” Khalid replied. “It’s far removed from my years as a servant of The Lifegiver.”

What about your years as a thief?

“Well,” Khalid thought for a moment. “He wouldn’t have approved of stealing. But he would have been happy to see me give everything I stole back to the people who deserved it.”

I agree. You were a hero.

“I suppose I was. But my later life tainted that badly.”

You are a hero once again, Khalid. You saved the children in Gaellos, and now you are a priest of the Dragon. You will forever be honored in Eirenoch.

Khalid smiled. He was happy that his life now had meaning again. He was actually beginning to forget his years in service to The Lifegiver. He bid those memories good riddance. Now he could concentrate on his mission.

“How much longer?” he asked.

Not far now. Look ahead. To the three peaks.

Khalid looked up in the distance. As Erenoth had said, three peaks formed a triangular shield around what looked to be a caldera, or a large crater. Within the depression, which was hundreds of feet from the level ground, a small village had been built. Even from this distance, Khalid's perfected vision could make out stone buildings, wooden walkways, and tunnels that bore into the inner walls of the depression.

"What is that?" Khalid asked. "What are the mines built on?"

Tens of thousands of years ago, a giant rock fell from the sky and created this crater. It was made of an unusual metal. Metal from which hundreds of legendary weapons have been made throughout history, including your swords.

Khalid understood the significance. Though The Lifegiver himself was indifferent, the Jindala lusted after the unusual metal, this iron that fell from the sky. It was their goal to possess all of it, and be the sole bearers of weapons made from this magical substance. Sulemain himself had wielded a sword crafted of this same metal, forged in Khem by Imbra himself. And no doubt the Onyx Dragon's sword was forged from the iron from this very mine. Possessing this mine would be of top priority to the nobles. Its source of unearthly steel was a virtual fountain of ultimate military power.

"The Jindala must not be allowed to take a single scrap of metal from these mines," Khalid said. "Not even a stray piece of copper."

Then we shall waste no time.

"What is the plan?" Khalid asked. "Intimidate them until they leave? Claim this mine as holy ground?"

No. We kill them all.

Khalid laughed, seeing the logic of the simple, straightforward answer. There was no reason to waste any time. The Jindala would never leave on their own.

Are you ready, my friend?

"Yes!" Khalid called. "I am ready!"

Erenoth let loose a deep, echoing roar that caused Khalid to grip tighter. They dove as fast as an attacking eagle, straight for the guards that were posted on the south watchtower. Khalid laughed as he saw the faces of the men when they realized that a dragon was indeed soaring toward them from the sky. Erenoth shot a fiery blast, engulfing the tower in flames, and dove past. Khalid saw the men jump from the tower, flaming all of the way to their deaths.

The guards on the ground scattered, and the miners who were visible took cover, yet watched. Erenoth hovered in the air for a moment, flapping his wings and growling at the Jindala who cowered back. With a final snort, he landed. Khalid stepped off, drawing his swords and facing the many soldiers who surrounded them.

"Are we keeping count?" Khalid joked as he looked upon their confused faces.

"If you wish," Erenoth replied as he transformed. "But I am already ahead."

Khalid laughed, the two of them closing the gap between themselves and the enemy. "Those didn't count," he said. "You were in dragon form."

Erenoth smiled, drawing his swords. Before the two of them could act, the Jindala tightened their circle around them, poising their spears to attack. Several swordsmen approached, their blades drawn and their eyes filled with lust. Their initial shock at seeing a dragon had worn off, apparently, and they came fearlessly.

"Good luck, my friend," Khalid said.

The two of them charged, spinning in the air simultaneously. The surprised Jindala backed away as they attacked, readying their spears. Khalid came down, twirling his blades in a double backhand slash. His attack disemboweled then decapitated his first opponent, and set him up in his scorpion stance. He sneered at the line of enemies remaining.

Erenoth's aerial spin landed him between two opponents. He dispatched both with a single horizontal spin, and turned to face those that remained. Back to back the two of them stood; ready to face the coming onslaught.

With a concerted effort, the Jindala attacked, thrusting their spears toward the duo. Both men dodged their attackers, slicing off the ends of their spears and countering with diagonal slashes. Seconds later, four more men lay dead their feet.

"That's four for me," Erenoth boasted, glancing at Khalid.

Khalid quickly knocked a spear out of the way, dispatching its wielder with a backhand slash and thrust.

"Four," he said, grinning.

All at once, the remaining Jindala charged, furiously jabbing and thrusting their weapons. Several of them drew their swords, coordinating their attacks with those of their comrades. Erenoth and Khalid fought together, each complimenting the other's attacks. They parried and countered, and the sound of their blades clashing echoed throughout the mines.

The miners looked on, cheering on the two companions who had apparently come to their rescue. Their sounds of joy also echoed, and many of them realized that the leader had been alerted.

The Sultan emerged from his tent, his eyes wide as he saw the chaos unfold before him. His eyes narrowed as he saw Khalid. The man looked familiar to him, but he could not place him. Confused and furious, he drew his weapon and ran to the fray.

"Stop!" he commanded his men.

The fighting ceased, with Khalid and Erenoth backing away, yet standing ready. The Jindala lowered their weapons, looking to their leader in question as they, themselves, backed away. The Sultan eyed Khalid, approaching cautiously.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Khalid smiled, recognizing the Sultan, but not remembering his name. "We are the Priests of Drakkar," he replied in the Jindala tongue. "And we are here to reclaim these mines for Eirenoch."

The Sultan's eyes widened. "Sheikh Khalid!" he said, shocked. "Traitor!"

"It is you who are the traitor!" Khalid hissed. "You have abandoned Imbra, and your people!"

The Sultan struck with a downward slash of his scimitar. Khalid easily dodged the blow, bashing the Sultan in the face with his fist. The Sultan staggered, cursing and spitting blood. The remaining Jindala resumed their attack, and Khalid could see Erenoth begin his offense once more.

"You swore an oath to The Lifegiver!" The Sultan reminded him, backing off to stay clear of Khalid's reach. "And now I see you wearing the vestments of a false God."

"The Lifegiver is the false God," Khalid corrected him. "You are a fool to believe otherwise. And now you die."

Khalid drew his inner strength, focusing his power on one final attack. As he released his wrath, his body shifted forward, melting into the wind and appearing directly in front of the Sultan. The surprised Jindala looked down, seeing Khalid's blade embedded in his gut. Khalid lifted his other blade up to the Sultan's throat, leaning in closer to speak.

"When you see Imbra," he began, "I hope he forgives you. Goodbye, my brother."

Khalid drew the blade across the Sultan's throat, ducking away to avoid the spray of blood and pulling his other blade free. The Sultan fell to his knees, his eyes wide with shock, and his hands gripping his throat to stifle the crimson flow. Khalid turned away to join Erenoth in finishing off the rest of the soldiers, unaware that the dying Sultan had summoned his most powerful ally.