Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5)

by Shawn E. Crapo

  “Stay with us!” Eamon shouted. “We can defeat him together!”

  He heard Faeraon’s bow being drawn, and Traegus mumbling a spell. Hamal ignored his plea, continuing forward. “Go!” he shouted back. “This is my destiny. This is why I was summoned.”

  Eamon started to charge, but Faeraon stayed him. “No, my friend,” he said. “He is right. This is why he is here. It is his battle. We have ours.”

  “Come, Eamon,” Traegus said, dragging him away.

  Eamon hesitated, not wanting to leave his friend behind. But he was pushed into the shadows by his two companions, and directed away from the creature. He could only pause to look back with a heavy heart. He saw Hamal bravely walk toward the demon, his eyes closed, and his sword held high in honor of Imbra.

  As the trio fled, the last thing Eamon heard was Hamal’s battle cry.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  As the battle raged on into the late afternoon, the allied armies had managed to thin the Jindala forces out to a more manageable number. The two forces were evenly mixed together, creating a chaotic mix of friend or foe, making it difficult for anyone to find their peers. The rebel Jindala, who had long ago escaped the Lifegiver’s grasp, found themselves targeted by those of both sides. Their only hope of avoiding confusion—the lack of turbans—eventually became useless as the Jindala themselves did the same.

  Shemya attempted to help distinguish them from the enemy as they passed him by casting a spell of marking. When he sensed their allegiance, he turned their robes white in order to contrast with the red of the Jindala forces. It was effective for those who knew the Jindala’s ways, but there were still pockets of allies that remained oblivious.

  He would have to protect them in other ways.

  “Brothers!” he called to the janni. “Stay amongst the righteous and protect them from the swords of our allies.”

  The janni sped away, disbursing themselves among the various groups of rebel Jindala. They would stay among them to signal their allegiance to the armies, and protect them from wrongful death. Though they were small in number, they were valuable in the battle, just as everyone else who had taken up arms against the enemy.

  He was relieved at the outcome. The rebels were encouraged by the presence of the divine spirits, and they fought with more ferocity. They would truly make a name for themselves. Now, as the janni lord sped through the battle, he could worry less about them, and focus more on keeping the entire army’s morale to the needed level.

  But his fears were tripled when he suddenly sensed the presence of many powerful men among the Jindala. There were at least two dozen sorcerers mixed in with the rear ranks of the enemy force. They had stayed behind the foot soldiers to cast their spells of protection, and now, for summoning.

  Several efreets rose from the ranks, spinning and flaming above the heads of the Jindala. They cast fear into the hearts of the allied troops, and many of them fled their presence. Shemya, not wanting to tear his brothers away from protecting the rebels, took it upon himself to eliminate them. He rose to their level, his blazing swords poised. The efreet closest to him turned in his direction, growled in rage, and charged. Shemya met his charge with a wall of spinning blades. The efreet conjured blades of his own, and the two clashed furiously in a cacophony of steel.

  Shemya worked his blades in tandem, creating an impenetrable vortex that blocked all of the efreet’s strikes. He allowed himself to be pushed back, making the efreet think he was gaining ground. He sailed back toward one of his brothers, darting to the side just in time for the janni to rise up and strike down the efreet with an upward thrust. The efreet cried in agony as it was impaled. Shemya charged again, spinning in the air, slicing it multiple times. The efreet exploded in a huge fireball, its otherworldly flesh incinerating in midair.

  Shemya thanked his brother and sped toward the next efreet. It had engaged a group of Mekembe’s tribal spearmen, and was surrounded by the brave little men. They poked at it, doing little damage, but dodged and rolled away as the efreet’s fiery blades assaulted them. Shemya slammed into it, knocking it back several yards, and charged again with a spinning attack. The efreet was cast to the ground, where it was crushed under the divine hammer of Cannuck. The Northman roared in triumph, and Shemya bowed in respect, shooting off toward the next efreet.

  Along the way, he saw a sorcerer begin another spell. As he passed, Shemya swooped down to strike. His blades took off the sorcerer’s head mid-spell, and the magic fizzled into the air. He then spun again, blasting through the ranks of the enemy and cutting them to pieces. The Jindala fled from his wrath, backing away toward another sorcerer that raised his twisted claws into the air. Before Shemya could reach him, the spell was cast, and two glowing balls of red energy shot toward him. He dodged one with a lightning fast swoop, but was struck by the second. The dark energy blasted his physical form, knocking him back, stunned.

  Several Jindala charged their spears, their razor sharp tips rushing at him with unbelievable ferocity. Shemya barely had time to dodge the attacks, spinning in the last second to slash at the nearest spearman’s neck. Though his blade connected, the Jindala managed to skewer the janni. The pain was shocking. Shemya rose into the air to escape, his vision suddenly blurring and swimming before him.

  What was happening?

  He felt the darkness of the spear point rush through him, as if charged by some vile magic that affected even the djinn. Shemya’s brothers rushed toward him, striking down the attacking spearmen to protect their lord. They were a vortex of flame as they surrounded him, protecting him from the suddenly fearless Jindala warriors.

  Then, from the depths of the Jindala soldiers, an unearthly hiss penetrated the roar of battle. The Jindala parted, making room for the tall, black-cloaked beast that rose above them. Shemya stumbled to one knee as the creature’s magic began to spread around it. He could only see his brothers struggling to protect him, but could hear the creature’s frightening hissing as it released its power.

  The allied forces fled from the defiler, streaking past the janni in terror. Shemya rose again, depleted, but immune to the dark magic. He was weak, but he would not allow the dark beast to hinder their escape. He called to his brothers, his voice raspy and troubled.

  “Help them escape!” he shouted as loudly as he could.

  The janni charged after the fleeing men, guarding their escape. Many of the soldiers fell to the defiler’s power, crumbling into dust with screams of agony.

  Furious, Shemya charged.

  Daryth drew back his bow, taking aim at the nearest efreet. He loosed, sending the magical arrow into the flaming creature. It burst into a brilliant ball of earth energy as it struck, blowing the fiery spirit into oblivion. He drew and fired again, striking another efreet that battled with Azim. The creature also burst into nothingness, and Azim backed away, turning to join Daryth as he took aim at the remaining efreet.

  “Keep firing!” Azim shouted. “I will guard you!”

  Daryth nodded, taking aim again. Around him, he heard Azim’s blades clanging against the enemy’s armor. He fired, sending another arrow into the next efreet. It blasted the creature apart as it charged, sending bits of flame outward in a fiery explosion. He searched around for another, seeing several of them off in the distance.

  “We need to move!” Daryth shouted. “I can’t hit them from here. Our men are too crowded.”

  “Take the lead,” Azim replied. “I will follow you.”

  Daryth shouldered his bow and drew his katana, ducking through the battle to find a clear shooting spot. He took down several Jindala along the way, and he heard Azim do the same in his wake. Strangely enough, the allied soldiers were fleeing, running past him in terror. He stopped, searching the battle for the source of their fear.

  “Daryth!” Brynn called to him from nearby. “Defilers to the south!”

  Daryth cringed. With the appearance of defilers, their hands were tied. Farouk had instructed them not to kill the creature
s; saying that they were enslaved by the Lifegiver as well. Did that warrant their destruction? Should they be allowed to kill?

  “Get their attention,” Daryth said. “You are immune to their power.”

  Brynn nodded, charging off toward them. Daryth turned to Azim, whose face echoed his own concern. “What do we do?” he asked. “We cannot allow them to kill our allies.”

  Azim shook his head. “For once, I think we should defy my brother’s orders. This battle depends upon destroying the enemy, regardless of their nature. Besides, he’s not here.”

  “Agreed!”

  Daryth drew his bow again, leaping onto a nearby rock that jutted up from the sand. Azim joined him, drawing his own bow. The two took aim, disregarding any warnings not to kill the creatures.

  “Forgive us, brother,” Azim whispered.

  Brynn’s charge caught the defiler off guard. As he entered the void left by the fleeing men, the creature directed its power toward him, curling its claws and baring its fangs as it attempted to draw away his life force. Brynn, unaffected, leaped into the air, thrusting his blade at the defiler’s exposed face. The creature spun out of the way, and Brynn jabbed at the empty air. He landed on his feet, tossing his blade into the other hand, and spinning to back slash the defiler’s leg.

  His sword struck home, and the young knight felt the creature’s leg give way. The defiler erupted with a shrill cry, its power dissipating as its concentration was broken. Brynn rolled forward on the ground, coming up behind it and thrusting again into the creature’s back, then dodging a swiping claw. The defiler turned in rage, releasing a barrage of claw attacks at the retreating knight. One last powerful swipe of a claw afforded him the advantage when the attack knocked the defiler off balance. Brynn took the chance, chopping down with his blade, severing the creature’s claw, and spinning to deliver a powerful slash at its gut.

  The blade cut open the defiler’s body, dragging dark entrails with it as it finished its arc. Magical arrows streaked in and struck the defiler’s back, pitching it forward right into Brynn’s path. With one mighty swing, he severed the creature’s head, not even pausing before charging the next closest target.

  When he spotted the next defiler, he flung his blade with all his might. The sword sailed, end over end, embedding itself in the monstrous, fanged maw. The defiler fell to its knees, grasping the sword that jutted from its mouth, desperately tugging at it with its clumsy, clawed hands. Brynn drew his dagger and sliced at the crooked claws until the defiler swiped at him. He dodged, grasping the hilt of his blade and drawing it free, then spun and chopped downward, splitting the defiler’s skull in two.

  As Brynn turned to reach his next target, a wave of Jindala swordsmen charged toward him. He blocked the first attack with his gauntlet, backhanding the Jindala so hard that the man’s neck snapped. He parried the next man’s attack, countering with an uppercut punch to his gut. When he withdrew his fist, it was covered in blood, and spikes jutted from the knuckles of his gauntlet; bits of flesh still clinging to their points.

  Brynn chuckled maniacally as he realized his armor was becoming fully charged with his own rage. The rushing Jindala attacked reluctantly, staying at a distance and poking at him with their spears. But it was no use. Brynn rushed them with blinding speed, striking at them before they even knew he was there. He slashed and hacked them one by one, going from one to the next with a single string of fluid attacks, making a kill with each blow.

  Another wall of Jindala spearmen appeared, rushing at him in unison in an attempt to form a phalanx of spears. They cried out in rage when they neared, but were violently knocked away with a devastating attack from behind. When the chunks of flesh passed by him, Brynn saw Wrothgaar standing there staring at his axe and armor in awe. He too had changed, and the power of the Dragon had fuelled his battle rage as well.

  “Good hit, brother!” Brynn shouted.

  “I’ve never felt so alive,” Wrothgaar chuckled. “And I’ve never made my enemies so… dead.”

  Brynn burst out in laughter, clapping the Northman on the back as the two of them charged toward the next defiler.

  Angen and Brianna fought side by side with the janni. Shemya had fallen to the ground in the center of their circles, sputtering and choking as the strange magic of the Jindala spear coursed through him. His flames had been extinguished, and to the knights who protected him, it seemed he was at his end.

  Brianna ducked away from the battle to crouch by his side, examining the janni’s wound. Though she knew nothing of their kind, it was quite obvious that the weapon used was unnatural, and had been fashioned for the specific purpose of killing djinn. The rough edges of the wound were festering with dark threads of smoky flesh that lifted and evaporated into the air. It was as if the janni Lord was disintegrating slowly and painfully.

  “Shemya,” she said. “If I knew how to help you, I would. But I know nothing of these things.”

  Shemya looked up at her, his dark eyes seeming almost human. His lips, dried and curling parted as he attempted to speak, but all he could manage was a harsh whisper. “Fire,” he said. “Only divine flame can help me now, child.”

  “The other janni?” she said. “Can they help you?”

  Shemya lowered his head again, sadly. “No. Only the fire of the Firstborn can save me.”

  The fire of the Firstborn…

  She stared blankly as the phrase repeated in her head. She saw the Firstborn, their weapons, and the weapons of the knights; in particular, the bow that Azim carried.

  Azim wielded the fire of the Dragon.

  “I shall return,” she said, laying a comforting hand on Shemya’s shoulder.

  “Angen!” she called, moving back up to the circle. “I need Azim! I need him here now!”

  Angen grabbed a spear, pulling its wielder toward him and skewering him with his massive blade. He tossed the man aside casually, turning to her in question. “Why?”

  “We need his bow,” she explained. “His arrows can heal Shemya.”

  Angen nodded, pulling his horn from his belt and waving his blade out before him as he backed away. He spat a massive lung full of air into its mouthpiece, coughing at the end of the breath. Then, for safe measure, he blew it again.

  Angen’s horn echoed over the battlefield, where Daryth and Azim heard its call. They lowered their bows, looking at one another before leaping off of the rock.

  “Angen is in trouble,” Daryth said, drawing his katana and charging toward the sound.

  Azim followed, carefully pushing through the melee. The horn was nearby, around the area where the janni were gathered. The two men followed the brilliant aura of flame that the divine creatures emitted, ignoring the defilers that were still among the combatants. They fought their way through, parrying and countering in an effort to reach their brother.

  They found Angen and Brianna among the janni, fending off a tightly-packed circle of spearmen. Azim went into action, spinning his blades in alternating strikes at the backs of the enemy. Daryth fired his bow repeatedly, creating a gap in the circle and shouldering his way through. The janni drove the circle back, creating a wider area of protection for the knights to gather.

  “Azim!” Brianna cried. “Shemya is injured. Use your bow on him.”

  Azim looked at Shemya, seeing the janni weakened and dying. His form, having already been altered by the Lifegiver’s magic, was crumbling and mummified in appearance. He drew back his bow, summoning the Dragon’s power, and released an arrow into Shemya’s chest. As the arrow struck, it burst into flame, enveloping the janni. The flame burned for a few seconds before dying down to a mere smolder. He fired again, strengthening the fire with another burst. Shemya began to rise, strengthened by the divine fire. Again Azim fired, and finally the janni stood tall, his flames growing in intensity until he began to spin and rise into the air.

  “It worked!” Brianna said, relieved.

  “Thank you, Azim,” Shemya called.

  Azim bowed, should
ering his bow and returning to the melee.

  In the distance, the knights could see more defilers rising from the Jindala ranks. Their towering forms waded through the soldiers, seeking the allied army. There were dozens of them, dark and fearsome. Men of all the kingdoms fled before their ghastly forms. It seemed their presence had turned the tide of the battle.

  Until a brilliant flash of light burst from the west.

  The entire bulk of the armies shielded their eyes as a wave of blinding light passed through them. A hot wind followed, driving everyone to their knees. The defilers in the enemy’s midst cowered, wrapping themselves in their dark cloaks as the sun-like magic blasted them painfully.

  The allied army turned to seek the source of the burst. To the west, two figures appeared as silhouettes against the desert; each holding a staff and a blade. A vortex of magical energy appeared above them, opening into a portal that flared with the power of the sun. Eight black dots emerged in the sky; tiny forms that gradually grew into the familiar shape of dragons.

  Once again, the two figures fired waves of powerful magic that passed harmlessly through the human soldiers. The defilers caught in its wake were blasted apart; their cloaks disintegrating in the divine wind, and their twisted and vile bodies cowering in agony. As their forms were destroyed, black wisps of energy swirled around them, growing into clouds of spirit that streaked toward the two men. One raised his staff, absorbing the defilers’ life force, and that of their victims. Above them, the eight dragons, six of them with riders, streaked over the battlefield, diving down to join the battle.

  The Cloud Warriors had arrived, and Farouk and an unknown companion had come with them.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Sandstone blocks shattered under the creature’s feet as it charged Hamal. Its gleaming metal claws cut through the air with a sharp swoosh, and Hamal leaped back to dodge them, countering with a double slash of his blade. His attack missed as well, and the creature charged again with more ferocity; its jackal’s maw baring the glistening fangs within.