Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5)

by Shawn E. Crapo

  Jodocus smiled. Farouk looked in Allora’s direction, and he saw that he had her hands clasped together as she wept. The black defiler’s tentacles formed a large ring, welding together to make a solid shape. Its own feet dug into the ground, forming a base for the bowl that it had formed. It would be Allora’s scrying pool, Farouk realized. When the water returned to Alvar, she would use it to commune with Theia, and divine the answers to her questions.

  Soon, the four defilers had finished their transformation. Four large, white trees that formed a pleasant canopy overhead now surrounded the three of them. It was a shaded place; a sanctuary of the divine that would be ready to inhabit once the world was alive again.

  Farouk stepped forward, pointing his staff into the empty bowl. He closed his eyes, linking his consciousness to the spirit of Theia. Deep inside his gem, her mind awoke.

  “Farouk,” she whispered. “I am eager to leave this place.”

  “Are you ready to have a world of your own?” Farouk asked.

  An ethereal sigh echoed within his mind, accompanied by the sound of joyous weeping. “I am ready,” Theia said.

  Farouk released her spirit. His gem began to glow as she streamed out of it and into the scrying pool. She swirled around it happily as Farouk stepped back to join his friends. The ground began to tremble lightly under their feet; not a fearsome trembling, but a soothing sensation that filled them with warmth.

  In the pool, the shape of a beautiful woman rose from the glowing mist; her eyes trained upon Allora. Her smile was warm and loving, as a mother’s would be, and Allora returned it just as lovingly.

  “This is Allora,” Farouk said. “She has sought you out for thousands of years. Her people are now yours to care for. In return, they will care for you in whatever way you wish.”

  “We will,” Allora whispered, overwhelmed with emotion. “You have my promise.”

  “She is beautiful,” Theia whispered. “When she returns, she will be my priestess, if she wishes.”

  “I do,” Allora replied.

  “I have a gift for you,” Jodocus said, stepping forward as he withdrew a large bag from his cloak.

  Theia smiled as she looked upon him. “What is it, little one?” she asked.

  “I know that you would wish to create life of your own,” Jodocus began. “But with the help of these spores, you will have an easier time figuring things out.”

  Theia moved her face closer to the boy, her ethereal hair reaching out to caress him. “You are most kind,” she said. “Please release them. I will nurture them and love them as my own.”

  “Then we are going to need some water,” Jodocus said.

  “As you wish.”

  Suddenly, the sky overhead darkened with thick clouds. A low rumbling was heard in the distance; loud enough to shake the very ground. Farouk knew that sound. It was the sound of massive amounts of water rushing through the sea floor. Theia had released the waters from within the mantle.

  The seas were returning.

  A light wind entered the grove, swirling upward in a tall, dusty column in front of Jodocus. Without hesitation, he untied the bag he held, flinging its contents into the vortex. Millions of tiny seeds were taken up into the sky where they would be distributed in a wide area around the grove. Farouk felt the warmth of life returning to the ground, and a light rain began to fall. The soil gradually darkened, building up small amounts of life that were nourished by the moisture.

  “This will be your world’s Wellspring,” Jodocus said. “Like the Wellspring in Eirenoch, where I defeated the Devourer.”

  “I cannot wait to see it,” Allora said.

  Theia began to dissolve, sinking down into the pool. Her smile remained, and she spoke one last time before she sank into its depths—and into the planet itself.

  “Goodbye, Allora. I will be awaiting your return.”

  “Goodbye,” Allora replied.

  The pool continued to roil and glow with life. Green mist spilled over the sides, flowing over the ground for several feet before it was absorbed. The ground began to tremble again as Theia’s spirit penetrated the mantle, bringing the inner world to life. Farouk turned to his friends, happy to have been a part of such a wonderful event. Jodocus seemed happy, too.

  “Thank you, Farouk,” Allora said. “What you have done is far beyond anything I could ever conceive. I will never forget your kindness. None of us will.”

  “I believe the Dragon had this planned all along,” Farouk said. “Other than stealing Kingu’s power, I can think of no other reason for him to have taken such a journey to find Theia’s spirit.”

  “Your Firstborn are noble,” she said, “or, they were. I am sorry I never got to meet them.”

  “We will be happy to tell you everything we know, and we would all love to hear about your former Firstborn.”

  Allora smiled. “I look forward to it.”

  Farouk patted Jodocus on the head, prompting a smile. “Alright, little friend,” he said. “Let’s go home. We will come back in a thousand years or so.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  A strange silence lay over the city of Khem. All was in ruin, and the smoke hung in the air like a thick fog. Every building had been destroyed, including the palace that housed the throne. Only the Great Pyramid, with its magical defenses, and the massive wall that surrounded the city, still stood intact. Obelisks were knocked down, walls were crumbled, and houses were caved in and burning. The ground was littered with the dead—both Jindala and samurai alike—and the smell of burning flesh was rampant.

  Eamon followed the length of the wall with his eyes, staring in awe at the size of it. Nowhere along its fortified sections was there any breach where the Sun King’s army would have entered. It appeared as if they had entered in some other way.

  “How did the Sun King destroy the city from the outside?” he asked.

  Hamal shook his head. “Either he had catapults, or his mages were able to pass the shield somehow.”

  “I have never seen such an expansive wall,” Eamon said, taking in the vast area of the city. “But it seems to have done little good.”

  “I think it was to keep the population in,” Hamal replied, looking sadly at the ruins. “My father said the wall wasn’t here before I was born. There was no need for it. People came here from all over the world in peace. Once the Lifegiver came, those that knew the truth of his nature would have attempted to flee. Many of them were likely killed… or enslaved to build it.”

  Faeraon was silent and appeared cautious. His eyes scanned the ruins carefully; or appeared to. Eamon had the sense that he was feeling rather than seeing. Once Eamon opened his mind to his surroundings, he understood Faeraon’s concern. There was a strange feeling of being watched. Not from the Lifegiver himself, but something different; something more physical, and nearby.

  Something alive.

  Hamal lifted his blade, looking up and down its length. “My sword speaks to me,” he said.

  “Something is ahead,” Traegus warned. “I can feel it, too.”

  Hamal took the lead. His blade was poised before him, and he began to side step as they neared the closest buildings. There was a row of stone buildings surrounding either side of the road, broken and crumbled with few walls still standing. Statues littered the ground, having been knocked down and shattered. They were strange figures, most of them bearing the heads of animals.

  “These statues weren’t here when I was a child,” Hamal said. “Not that I remember.”

  “Who or what are they?” Eamon asked.

  Hamal shook his head. “I am not sure. Some beastly gods or servants of the Lifegiver. He has created many strange and vile things.”

  Eamon jerked his head as he saw movement from the corner of his eye on his left side. A shadow had moved somewhere among the ruins, and his heart began to quicken as he became more aware of it. Still, they crept forward, taking care not to make too much noise in case any soldiers were left…

  …or any o
ther undesirable things.

  The dust cloud was thicker ahead of them. Its sandy depths obscured any further on in the city, except for the main platform of the palace, and the Great Pyramid that loomed behind it. The top of a long stairway led to the top of the palace, ending in a row of pillars that had likely held up the upper floors. They were now gone, leaving the pillars to stand without purpose. They appeared to be holding up the sky.

  Sounds began to echo from the dust before them. There were sounds of claws clicking against the sandstone, pacing from side to side like an animal sniffing out prey. Hamal stopped, motioning for the rest of them to be still. Eamon listened intently, slowly drawing the Serpent’s Tongue in anticipation. Traegus and Faeraon both drew theirs, as well. Traegus held his staff out, searching for whatever was lurking in the gloom.

  “There are multiple life forms ahead,” he whispered. “Large beasts. Not human.”

  Hamal glanced back; his face displaying his concern. He backed up, turning to whisper to his friends. “Be wary,” he said. “There are beasts that roamed the alleys here, seeking out those who broke the Lifegiver’s laws.”

  “What are they?” Eamon asked.

  “I do not know,” Hamal replied. “But my father told me that they are some perversion of desert animals that roam the wild.”

  “Demon camels?” Traegus offered with a grin.

  Hamal rolled his eyes, turning back to the road ahead. Eamon glanced at Traegus, shaking his head. Traegus only shrugged, continuing on.

  From behind him, Eamon heard Faeraon ask, “What is a camel?”

  A low growl emanated from the dust, stopping them all in their tracks. It was a dry, hoarse growl, like that of a large reptile. It was soon joined by others, and the four friends separated and stood guard as the clicking suddenly increased.

  “May the blessings of Imbra be with you, my friends,” Hamal said.

  Shadowy beasts appeared, partially obscured, but recognizable in shape. They stopped near the edge of the dust, sniffing the air and growling their discontent. They were four-legged beasts, tall and lithe, with a crocodile-like gait. Their heads appeared to be long and horned, hanging low on long necks that whipped back and forth as they sought their prey.

  Eamon’s heart quickened. He had never seen anything like them. They appeared as long-legged, wingless dragons; but the color of boiled leather, and with eyes that were hollow and fearsome. They were, apparently, blind; finding their way around by scent and hearing alone. It would be best to remain still, waiting until they passed.

  The creatures stalked toward them, oblivious of their exact locations, it seemed. No one moved or made a sound as the creatures approached. It was an uncomfortable silence; awkward and terrifying. As the friends moved their eyes to take note of each other’s position, Eamon noticed that the creatures, blind as they were, had somehow sensed Traegus. They sniffed in his direction, gradually moving his way ever so slowly.

  Traegus pursed his lips, realizing he had been sensed. He glanced at Eamon, raising his eyebrows. Eamon shook his head, warning him not to do whatever it was he was planning to do. The creatures stopped, all facing in the wizard’s direction. A low, aggressive growl rumbled from the lead creature, prompting the others to move in its direction. There were six of them in all, Eamon saw. Two others had materialized from the haze behind the original four.

  Suddenly, Traegus blasted the nearest creature with a burst of brilliant blue magic. It blew the creature apart, sending chunks of its foul flesh flying against the nearby ruined walls. The other creatures roared into life, charging him with blinding speed.

  Hamal spun and slashed the nearest creature as it passed, severing its left front leg. As the creature tumbled forward, Hamal thrust his blade down into its body. Traegus dodged the next creature to charge him, sending a wave of invisible force that slammed the beast against a crumbled building. The ruins shattered with the impact, and the attacker tumbled through, landing on the ground with a thud.

  Eamon shifted forward with his blinding speed attack, severing a beast’s head before it could reach Traegus. Faeraon double-slashed another, laying open its flank. The putrid smell of rotting flesh quickly filled the air as its innards spewed from the wound.

  Traegus leaped over the ruined wall, landing near the beast he had knocked through it. He plunged his blade deep into the creature’s gut, finishing it off. Eamon slashed at the next beast as he shifted his direction mid-charge. He sliced into the creature’s neck, then spun and ran it through.

  As he withdrew his blade, he saw that his friends had finished off the rest. They stood silent for a moment, prepared for anything else that may emerge from the haze.

  “Were those the camels you spoke of?” Faeraon asked.

  The amount of rubble on the road increased as they continued on. Columns, large stone blocks, and broken statues lay everywhere, creating a maze of debris that the group had to work their way through cautiously. Throughout their journey, they had heard the familiar clicking sound of the strange beasts stalking the areas around them. Faeraon, whose hearing was more acute, guarded the rear of the group, keeping his eye out for stalkers.

  They crept along in short spurts, staying within the incidental shelters that were formed by the scattered rubble. When they heard stalkers nearby, they paused to let them pass. The creatures stopped near Traegus every time, seemingly aware of his presence for some reason that Eamon could not fathom. Then again, Traegus was a strange one, anyway. There was no telling what he carried in his cloak. Perhaps it was the object Titus had brought to him before.

  But why would it attract their attention?

  When it was time to move forward again, Eamon crept up next to the wizard, crouching down beside him.

  “Why do the creatures sense your presence?” he asked. “Is it the orb?”

  Traegus shook his head. “There is no reason they would sense it,” he replied. “From the outside, it’s just a piece of metal, pretty as it is.”

  He removed the orb from his cloak, holding it up for Eamon to see. It was bronze, with strange markings and seams that intersected in various places around it. It did not appear to be anything of interest, magical or otherwise. Eamon shrugged.

  “There is another possibility,” Traegus said. “I am in possession of Eogan’s body. The Lifegiver was in contact with him.”

  Eamon nodded half-heartedly, looking around the side of their shelter. Faeraon was squinting, his gaze locked on the road ahead of them. The Alvar signaled that another stalker was ahead. Eamon peered over the top of the rubble, seeing the shadowy form of the creature lurking near a collapsed pillar. Faeraon drew his bow, drawing it back without a sound.

  The arrow streaked through the haze, striking the stalker in the head with a thud. It groaned and collapsed onto the stone, lifeless. Faeraon motioned for them to remain still as he scanned the immediate area for any other stalkers. After a few seconds, he nodded, and the group continued on.

  “Good shot,” Eamon said.

  Hamal grunted in agreement as he took the lead once more. After only a few steps, he stopped and turned.

  “My blade speaks to me again,” he said. “There is something ahead.”

  “We are getting close the temple,” Traegus reminded him. “The temple opens up into the pyramid.”

  Hamal shook his head. “No. This is something more immediate, and it’s almost as if my blade recognizes it.”

  Eamon glanced at the Serpent’s Tongue. Though he knew it was aware of something, the sword did not appear to be interested—if that were possible.

  “I think the stalkers are the least of our worries,” Faeraon said, “frightening as they are. I am sure that Absu has more pets around to guard his throne.”

  Hamal nodded. “Pets,” he said. “Yes, pets.”

  “You have been imbued with the power of Imbra,” Eamon said, “just as I have the Dragon’s power. We should fear no beasts; natural or unnatural.”

  Faeraon suddenly held up his hand
to silence them. He moved closer to the wall of rubble, training his ear to the east. “Something is coming,” he said. “I can hear its footsteps.”

  The remaining three stood, staring off into the haze. It was beginning to billow and spread, as if something large was coming their way and pushing the haze to the side. Faeraon dashed across the road to get a better viewpoint. Eamon could see nothing but the movement of the haze, but could feel a slight, rhythmic rumbling.

  “Footsteps,” he said; “heavy footsteps.”

  As the four rose to greet their new stalker, a frightening groan echoed from the haze. It was long, deep, and drawn out; like the sound of an old woman drawing her last breath. It ended in a gurgling sound that brought chills up Eamon’s spine. Then, there was a growl so deep that it shook the ground and stung his ears like daggers.

  The footsteps quickened and became louder. Whatever it was, it had sensed their presence and was coming after them. There was no hiding now. Hamal stepped to the front of them, his sword held out before him.

  “My friends,” he said. “This is why I am here.”

  “What are you talking about?” Eamon said. “We are all in this together.”

  The three stood beside Hamal, their own blades poised and ready for whatever would emerge from the dust. Eamon’s heart quickened in anticipation. Traegus seemed to be trembling with excitement—or fear. Faeraon glared, his teeth bared in battle rage.

  Then, it came.

  A huge humanoid shape materialized from the gloom. It was black, heavily muscled, and stood at least twice the height of a man. It wore only a white linen kilt, a golden belt, and golden gauntlets around its massive wrists. It was the embodiment of terror, but the most striking feature was its head.

  It bore the head of a jackal.

  “It cannot be,” Hamal exclaimed as the beast roared, displaying its clawed hands.

  “What is it?” Eamon shouted.

  Hamal turned to him, his eyes filled with revulsion. “Atuzoth,” he whispered. “The Gatekeeper of Hell.”

  They all stood fast, preparing for battle. But Hamal stepped forward, stoically raising his blade.