Against That Shining Darkness: Boxed Set Trilogy

by Chogan Swan

The spirit of fear

  He’d listened, and he'd learned the song the old man taught the officers and squad leaders. Waterman thought it strange, but the general had insisted on its importance, and he'd taught his men as well, but he hadn't paid real attention. He had assumed, at the time, it was only for morale boosting. Now he felt horrified and too frightened to make a sound, much less sing a song.

  Then he heard a thin voice nearby in the dark. Not strong, but defiant, the corporal—once a non-guild thief from Ibuchan—eyes squinted shut, singing with all his might.

  Praise the living Creator

  Let the world rejoice

  The Creator gives life, a gift of love,

  Supporting ever, those who trust.

  Just hearing the song made him feel better, and Tom pulled himself up, concentrating on the words. In the dark, in the middle of his fear, something happened; he believed. He chose to trust the song. It was better to believe the song than the fear, so he chose the song.

  He joined in, shouting the words in his growly voice, and the fear rolled away from him like a wave broken on the rocks, forced to return where it came.

  Down the line, other voices picked up the song until it echoed in a mighty chorus from the rocks.

  When the foe reached them, the defenders sang as they fought. Wave upon wave of the enemy stormed the defenses. But—though the spirit of fear drove the Tyr-Goth forward—it did not drive back the defenders of the pass.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  The night of fighting had been a grim business. Just before dawn, Marshall rubbed his bleary eyes and stared at the moon-shadowed ridge strewn with carnage. Most of the host in the valley still slept, but a new wave of rested fighters was marching up to spell the remnant of the last attack.

  The defenders were well prepared and placed to take advantage of the high ground. Kane estimated they had wiped out all but half of the waves that had come during the night, but each wave had taken its toll in deaths, injuries and weariness from the defenders.

  Kane and Alaina came up to stand next to him. Alaina offered him a drink from a flabby water skin. “The well has gone dry in the old village,” she reported. “I sent a man down with a pick-axe, but it will be slow work to make it deeper, the sandstone is hard and it’s on a shelf of granite, so he’ll need to dig at an angle. I see no hope for water from there soon, and again the night brought no dew to collect.”

  Marshall scratched his chin. “The only thing to do, is draw the Tarrians in and hammer them till they are weak. Then we can extend the line to that spring in the east valley. We will lose men, but otherwise we won’t hold the pass. If we won’t stand long without water.”

  Wyatt and his aide, both gaunt in the moon's pale light, came trudging up the hill from the north. “We’re low on water,” he said, voice rasping. “We have to fall back to the next line so we can defend with fewer men, or they’ll wear us down. Our only hope is rain.”

  “Well,” Kane said, “I don't know about the weather on the other side of the mountain, but it doesn't look like rain over here.”

  Chapter 8 (Dark Arrival)

  Just before dawn, Seth woke from a restless sleep. He rolled out of his blankets and looked east. The embers of the fire next to his bed glowed, offering comfort, but something was wrong.

  The stars were disappearing, darkness rolled up to cover the moon. Strange smells, bitter and heavy, rode on the wind.

  Shouts came from the Tarrian camp, alarums ringing out. On the other side of the fire, Keri stirred.

  “What is it?” she said, still foggy from sleep.

  “Shagduluth,” said Seth in Evelonian, “The Hand of Darkness revealed.”

  The first rays of the sun broke free of the horizon and lit the lower side of the gathering storm. From the south, a great cloud towered in the sky, and from it a dark ribbon stretched out toward them.

  Below the cloud, a crowd of creatures like men marched in ragged ranks. The Tarrians gave way before them, some even fleeing south—these allies more terrible than foes. In front of the ragged marchers, rode the three baalim in drab cloaks, each on a dark horse. When they reached the Tarrian camp, they stationed themselves at three points of a huge triangle and waited.

  The hosts they led surged forward, surrounding them, but none stepped into the triangle. The dark ribbon in the sky, closer now, revealed distinct shapes.

  Eighteen forms, long, sinuous, dark and winged; huge dragon shapes all. Before them came Darkfire, the great outcast, in his form as a wyrm. He was immense, greater in bulk than any drake Seth had seen, even in the council, Twice as long as the largest of the dragons that followed him. Though he rode the air, he did not deign to use his wings, but cast himself through the sky by means of his magic, gliding down to settle in the center of the triangle.

  The Tarrian legions who had stood their ground until now all started to flee from his coming, but froze in their tracks at a command from one of the baalim.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  To those watching from the pass, it seemed as though a great mountain now planted in the middle of their enemies, so high above that crowd did the wyrm rise. Raising his mouth to the sky, he bellowed a challenge. The Tarrians around him fell on the ground, stunned.

  The defenders of the pass clapped their hands over their ears.

  Keri looked from the sight back to Seth, just in time to watch him vanish.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  Seth, watching the host assembling, fought back dread.

  Fear not. Do I not still hold your hand?

  Some force pulled at him, yanking him in an unfamiliar direction. He stood, at once, on the floor of the plain below the mountain, standing among the Tarrians who cringed before the wyrm.

  Seth stepped forward and spoke in dragon, “Have you come to repent your ways and be restored to fellowship, O' Darkfire, who was once Undaumiel?”

  Darkfire's head snapped around to fasten its gaze on Seth. “You again?” snarled the dark wyrm. “You came to my halls then fled after taunting me. If you were as clever as you supposed, you would remember I told you I cast that name away long ages before the Council's upstart decision. I took a name of my own choosing; no one holds power over me.” The wyrm took a menacing step forward, “But you ran last time we were met. How have you come by the courage, to face me now?”

  Seth shook his head. “We hoped you would turn from your madness if you were removed from our fellowship for a while; it is not too late yet, unless you do not turn now. This marks the last road back for you. The name you give yourself is a lie. It will only work against you. Turn again to the creator, be forgiven; and receive a new name.”

  The hills and the plain were silent. Then the great fire drake rumbled, “Long ages have I lived without the one I loved best of all. Empty ages of grief. Will the Creator return to me the one I loved, or erase the centuries of grief and bitterness? NO! I have asked a thousand times, and there was only silence. The Creator promised me the desire of my heart at my beginning and it was a lie. I have had only pain.”

  Seth shook his head, “You raised your affection and your grief above the throne of the source of life. That is what cut you off from the desire of your heart. Your self has done it, but turn again and be restored.”

  “Once I might have listened to your words, little man-dragon, but I have learned something in my years of grief.” Darkfire lowered his head to gaze into Seth's eyes.

  Seth met the stare without flinching.

  “I learned that I am just as much a god as 'the Creator' and one day I will be higher. Then I will make my own joy. I will tear the fabric of time. I will return my love to me. I will not submit again. I will pull down the throne, and on that day, the Creator will bow down to ME.” The roar of Darkfire's voice shook the stones on the hills; some of them slid, tumbling down the slopes.

  Seth raised his hands in resignation, “Once the folly of these words would have been obvious to you, but now you have lost yourself in darkness. You
have believed the deceiver's lies and have become like him. You are beyond hope of recovery and you will spend eternity with a despair of your own making.”

  Darkfire opened his mouth in a bitter, yawning snarl. “I doubt it,” he hissed, “but even if it were so, I would not bow. Whatever else happens, you will know despair first. Even now I will teach it to you.”

  Seth saw the attack coming and leapt back. At Darkfire's command, the three demons at the corners of the triangle spurred their mounts forward to surround him. The Tarrians fell back further with cries of fear.

  Seth stopped, listening to the voice inside him, and waited to be surrounded. The three baalim closed in and brought out their swords, flaming and ugly red. With sight not physical, Seth saw the swords for what they were—extensions of the hate the demons held for everything.

  He trusted the voice, but he was in great danger.

  Darkfire took a heavy step towards him. “Fight me little man-dragon. It will amuse me, and you may live a moment or two more before I shred you between my claws.”

  Seth raised his power before him, and it blazed hard and white.

  The baalim fell back in dismay, and Darkfire recoiled in a moment of surprise.

  “My demon slaves were correct,” said Darkfire. “You do have power, and someone has taught you to use it. That doddering fool Jyrmak could never have brought you so far, but it will not be enough. I will allow you to live if you serve me, but if you do not submit, I will slay you.”

  “I will not bow,” replied Seth, “except to the creator or the captain of the host of heaven.”

  “Then you will die.”

  Darkfire reached for Seth in a lizard-quick snatch with his huge claw, at the same time, bringing his power to bear.

  Seth felt himself lifted into the air. The worm's huge claws surrounded him, but could not quite close on him because of the shield he held around himself. The dark shadow of the wyrm's power surrounded him in a cloud like black smoke.

  “And now, little man-dragon, I will take away your power. Then you will be mine.” Darkfire’s eyes glowed red.

  Now what?

  He knew he could hold out for a while, but the voice was telling him something different, something unsettling.

  Let go. Do not struggle, let your powers be taken away—as a sacrifice.

  “To him?”

  No, to Me. Let him take them. I will make a new covenant with you.

  And—though it made no sense at all—Seth let go.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  With the dark grip of his power, Darkfire clasped the burning shield and braced himself then—with all his strength—he tore at it.

  To his amazement, it came away with no effort at all. He was disappointed—it had been so easy. He had expected an hour or so of delicious struggle. He looked upon the helpless human in his grasp.

  Why, he wondered, was there no fear there?

  “In the name of the Creator, I rebuke you,” said the frail creature in his grasp. And at those words, the great wyrm felt a blow smite him as though from the hand of the Creator. He lost his grip and tumbled back amid his followers, crushing hundreds of them beneath his bulk.

  With his spiritual sight he saw the man stand up and walk toward him.

  Tearing the power away had released something else. Darkfire could see power and light flowing from the man's belly.

  It hurt to look at it, and he cringed. It was light from the throne of heaven and burned his sight.

  The Creator had told the man his secret name, what a fool he had been to think it hidden from the Allknowing.

  He turned to flee, trampling on beasts, men and demons trying to rise up on his long unused wings.

  “I bind you,” said the man.

  And with a crash—the great wyrm, the strongest of the Hand—stretched helpless on the ground. He had never known such fear in all the long ages of his life.

  “You have trespassed on the dominion of a new covenant. You have chosen the dark,” Seth said. With a clap like thunder, a great, dark gap opened in the air. Darkfire fell into it—sideways, pulled headlong—vanishing as the opening closed behind him. His despairing roar cut short.

  Seth looked around. The Tarrians and the great hoards were fleeing.

  The demons who had driven them had departed, leaving their human hosts senseless, dying, dead, or disintegrating in red fire.

  Darkfire's eighteen disciples hovering in the air began to stoop down to attack. Seth scrambled back up the hill to shelter in the rocks., Seth saw a flash of red-gold, coming toward him down the hill, charging through the rocks at breakneck speed.

  Always coming to my rescue,

  Seth hoped Keri wasn't about to get herself killed. He pulled Gidrun from his scabbard and jumped behind a huge boulder as the first dragon swept over him. The boulder rocked from the concussion of its scaled tail.

  Keri, scrambling on her knees and hands, threw herself down beside him, berating herself. “What I was thinking running down here, I will never know. If you can blink off somewhere like that again, you'd better do it now.”

  Seth shook his head. He hadn't been responsible. Another’s power had snatched him from the hilltop, and now his own had been sacrificed.

  “I'm afraid this rock is the only protection we've got right now,” Seth said.

  “Fear not, small brother,” said the rock.

  Startled, Seth turned to regard a huge golden eye that had appeared in the stone.

  “I have authority over these young ones that have been led astray by the dark lies of the wyrm.”

  “It's the Elder,” Seth said, speaking dragon in astonishment.

  Keri froze, not understanding. “Seth,” she whispered, “The rock is a dragon.”

  “Don't fear me, little golden head,” said the Elder in the common language. “Now that the power of Darkfire is cast down, I am here to discipline these foolish ones who have strayed from my weyr. Cover your ears now, I am going to call.”

  The Elder raised his head and trumpeted a triumphant and mighty note. Even though Seth and Keri covered their ears, the sound shook their bodies.

  Other huge boulders began to stir and move upon the hillside. The eighteen drakes who had followed Darkfire croaked in dismay. They had been high up during the confrontation, too far away to see what had happened to their dark teacher. They had assumed he had cloaked himself in shadow somehow for his own reasons. He had always been their protection from the Council. But now the Elder was here, and the Council was here, resplendent in their power and beauty, and Darkfire was gone.

  “Come down and submit,” ordered the Elder in a roar, “or face the judgment of the Council.”

  Like stones, sixteen of the big drakes dropped to earth and bowed down in submission, but two of them, the largest, began to flee to the north, frantically flapping back the way they had come.

  Hag Shadowdragon uncoiled his inky length, “I will pursue them,” he announced, and crouched to leap into the air.

  “Not so.” cried Seth in a voice of command. “Another shall go, for you have hidden evil within your heart, Gamalieal, and have coveted the stronghold of the wyrm. Though you were not yet in league with him, you have begun to walk down the same paths in your heart. And I see you would pursue to possess and not to prevent.”

  The huge black dragon recoiled.

  “Truth,” trumpeted the Elder.

  “Truth,” echoed the other council members.

  “Were you not here to witness the doom of Darkfire?” said Seth. “Would you walk the path to folly too? Turn back to the light before your heart sickens and dies completely. This other way will bring you only sorrow.”

  Gamalieal, called the Shadowdragon, trembled. Seth felt a power at work beyond him in the words he spoke. The effect on the Shadowdragon was devastating. Filled with remorse, the one who had hidden in shadows for many ages, threw himself on the ground, trumpeting in grief and remorse.

  A cloud, shining and white, billowed up around h
im and hid him from view. Inside the cloud be seen flashes of light and a sound like thunder. The sixteen dragons who had followed Darkfire cringed in fear and turned their heads away.

  The Elder turned to Seth and spoke in a hushed voice. “The creator is ministering to him. I would someone had spoken to Darkfire in such a fashion when he first turned away from the light; it might have made a difference. It is perilous to be above reproof.”

  Corona Sea mistress leapt into the air sparkling green and blue and sped off in pursuit of the two fugitives.

  Seth stared at the cloud in reverent awe. Then the voice spoke again. This time it came from inside him.

  A new covenant I make with you, and with your seed...

  Chapter 9 (Sacrifice Knight)

  Arturo stood next to Marshall on a high rock near the top of the pass that offered the best vantage on the land to the east. He had been up with his captains almost the entire night getting ready for the push to break the Tarrian line. When it was almost dawn, he had collapsed on his bedroll for an hour's rest, only to waken to a thunderous noise. When he stumbled from his tent, Tarrians were fleeing in panic, dragons filled the skies, and his men did not know whether to hide or cheer. He’d climbed up the pass to consult with his allies.

  Jyrmak and Arod, stood by the command center.

  Arturo climbed down from the rock and walked to the tent to stand with the king and the wizard “Do we have any news?” he said. “I’m wondering if I should be with my men.”

  “I have guesses, but don't know,” replied Jyrmak. “Fletch brought a message from Seth, saying to meet him here.”

  As Jyrmak spoke, a gust of wind hit the mountaintop, sending the canvas roof of the command tent sailing away, along with the maps not weighed down with rocks.

  Grit and stinging sand swirled around them. Then the wind was gone as quick as it had come. An immense dragon shook its wings to fold them against its sides. Two figures descended from its back, aided by a scaled foreleg.