Slowly, the people began to rise once more, their expressions of fear replaced by masks of hate and eternal agony. The darkness rebuilt them into twisted human shapes, repairing their bones, and strengthening their shriveled flesh with The Lifegiver’s power. They were still human in shape, but black, twisted, and horrifying in appearance. Though seemingly alive, they were now a horde of soulless creatures that would feel the pain of undeath for all eternity, and spread that pain like a plague upon the Earth. Their fates were sealed, and their souls were damned.
The Prophet had a word for creatures like these, a word that she had learned as a child in her homeland. It was a word that struck fear in the hearts of men; warrior and sage alike.
Wight.
Khalid awoke in a massive cavern within the Earth. All around him, the rocky walls reflected a reddish glow, with intermittent flashes of blue that indicated some force that he could not immediately see. Before him, the floor dropped away to the depths below. Khalid, though curious, was afraid to look over the edge, not knowing what may lie there. He crouched on the floor, gathering his courage, willing himself to go forward. But his courage was outmatched by his uncertainty, and he was unable to move.
He did not understand how he arrived in the cavern; the last thing he remembered was sitting down on the Dragon’s throne. He had fallen asleep, and then had awakened here. Those events were enough to paralyze him with confusion, and he could do nothing but stare at the cavern’s floor.
Khalid, the booming voice spoke again, this time with more substance behind it.
Khalid stood, fearful. “Dragon?” he asked timidly.
Yes, Khalid. It is I. You may call me by my true name, Dagda. I will allow you this, if it pleases you. Come to the edge of the cliff. I want you to see me as I am.
“I am trying, my friend,” Khalid stammered, “but my legs will not move. I think they are more frightened than I am.”
They will go where you want them to.
“Yes, yes,” Khalid replied. “Here I come.”
With a concerted effort, Khalid stepped forward. Though his legs resisted, he was able to slowly work his way toward the cliff’s edge, step by agonizing step. When he finally reached the drop off, he peered over the edge, looking down into the abyss.
The Dragon lay prone in his true form, immense, black as night with shimmering, onyx scales, silver horns, and giant, bat-like membranes stretching between the joints of his front legs—or arms, as they were. The Dragon was bound in silver threads that shimmered blue with some unknown energy, allowing for only his great, horned head to move freely. He looked upward at Khalid, struggling to see the man as he stared down at him. The Dragon’s head was huge and scarred, marked by eons worth of divine battles against the forces of darkness. But, despite his ragged appearance, there was a great sadness in his eyes. A sadness that Khalid could feel within himself.
“You are imprisoned,” Khalid noted. “The Lifegiver did this?”
Yes, Khalid, it was The Lifegiver. Your Lord, Imbra, suffers the same fate, along with the rest of the Firstborn. We are trapped within the Earth and powerless to help our children. You must free us.
“Me!?” Khalid exclaimed. “How in the Hell am I supposed to do that?”
The Dragon cocked his head, almost seeming to smile as he regarded the now humble Sheikh.
It is within your ability to do many things you would not have thought possible. You are stronger and more able than you think.
“On that opinion,” Khalid said, “I choose to remain dubious. I am just a man. Not a very good man, at that. Even before I swore allegiance to The Lifegiver I was nothing but a thief.”
No, Khalid, you were not a mere thief. You were a cavalier of sorts. One who stole from the powerful and helped those who had no choice but to eat scraps and steal bread. You are a good man at heart. I know this. Imbra speaks highly of you, and I trust his word.
Khalid stood silent, not sure how to take the Dragon’s opinion, or the word of Imbra. “I am honored by your words, great one,” he said, “but I have no faith in their truth.”
I understand, Khalid. But know that I see all. As I look at you now, I see a man filled with guilt and remorse. These things are not present in a man who is inherently evil. You feel shame for what you have done. Admitting shame is a form of honor. You have showed your honor, and you are worthy of righting everything you have done wrong.
Khalid sighed, sitting on the edge of the cliff, having faith that the Dragon would not let him fall. “I must be purged of my sins,” he said. “That is the only way I can proceed with whatever it is you need me to do.”
That is not necessary, Khalid. But, if that is your wish, then I will grant it.
Suddenly, the Dragon drew in a deep breath, his tethered body struggling against its bonds. Khalid leaned back, fearful and unsure of what was about to happen. When the Dragon had filled his lungs, he let loose his fiery breath. Khalid was engulfed in flames, and fell back flailing and screaming in pain. He writhed and squirmed as the flames spread over his body, rolling from side to side to try to extinguish them as they purged what evil remained in his soul.
The Dragon watched the cliff’s edge and listened to Khalid’s cries. He felt sadness at causing the man such pain, but he knew that Khalid’s torture would be short-lived, and he would emerge renewed, ready to walk the Path of the Dragon.
The captive Jindala were marched forcefully to Gaellos, pushed to run at a quick pace in order to reach the city before nightfall. The seventeen remaining captives arrived exhausted, some of them collapsing from fatigue when the group reached Gaellos’ walls.
At the city gates, a group of guards greeted the Knights. Though not subjects of Eamon’s rule, they regarded him with the same respect they would their own ruler.
“Well met, my Lord,” the guard Captain spoke. “You and your Knights are welcome here.”
“Thank you, sir,” Eamon greeted him. “I trust my soldiers have been behaving.”
The Captain laughed, “We appreciate their presence here,” he said. “They provide security against another takeover, and they’re not bad company.”
Eamon dismounted, clasping the Captain’s hand. “We have brought more company,” he said, pointing to the captured Jindala. “Soldiers of the Lifegiver. But I don’t think they’ll be too much trouble.”
Among the guards, a man stepped forward to address Eamon, bowing in respect before speaking. “My Lord,” he said. “May I ask in what direction these captives were traveling?”
“To the South,” Eamon replied. “They were after one of their own who fled in that direction. Why do you ask?”
“I believe the man they seek is Khalid,” the man replied. “And he is responsible for starting the rebellion in Gaellos.”
Brynn recognized the name. Khalid was the Jindala whose nose he had smashed in Taryn. “Khalid, you say?” he asked the man.
“Yes, my Lord,” he answered. “There were children held captive in the town square. They were imprisoned as leverage…to make up for the lack of a larger force. Khalid freed them. I don’t know why. I know he was a high ranking member of the enemy force, but he seemed like a good man.”
Eamon turned to Brynn in question. “Khalid is the man who led the assault on Taryn?” he asked.
“Yes,” Brynn said. “It has to be.”
He looked to the man. “What did he look like?”
The man thought for a moment, recalling the man’s appearance. “He was rather short,” he said. “Somewhat heavy. Gray hair and beard. Strange looking nose.”
Brynn laughed. “That’s him,” he said. “I smashed his nose in Taryn before I let him go. But I don’t understand. What would prompt him to release the children?”
“I don’t know, my Lord,” the man answered, “but he seemed determined to do so. We helped him kill the guards, the Thieves’ Guild and I.”
“What’s your name, sir?” Eamon asked.
“Angus,” he answered. “I am the town
smith.”
“Well, Angus,” Eamon began, “your bravery is commendable. You are an honorable man, and you have my respect. But, tell me, did this Khalid say where he was going?”
Angus shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said. “Only that he was going south. I got the impression he may have been traveling to the ruins in the mountains along the Southern Shore.”
“Tel Drakkar?” Eamon asked.
“I think that’s what they’re called,” Angus answered. “I don’t remember.”
Eamon turned to his Knights, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. “Erenoth went there, as well,” he said. “The Dragon called to him and told him to go there. I wonder if these events are related.”
“It is possible,” Azim said. “I know Khalid. If he has somehow lost the will to follow The Lifegiver, then he would likely seek a way to undo his wrongs. If the Dragon is Imbra’s brother, than he would go to him.”
“He murdered the Mordumarc!” Brynn insisted.
“The Defiler murdered them,” Azim corrected. “Khalid, like my brother and I, was under The Lifegiver’s spell. If I know him as well as I think, his actions here at Gaellos were an attempt to redeem himself.”
“I agree with Azim, Brynn,” Wrothgaar said. “Men can change, especially those under the spell of one such as The Lifegiver. If this Khalid is attempting to redeem himself and is seeking the Dragon, then we must accept that. The fact that he knows where the Dragon lies tells me that he was called there. Called by the Dragon himself, perhaps.”
Eamon nodded. “He would have no idea where to go, otherwise,” he said. “And the fact that Erenoth is going there as well means that the Dragon sees Khalid as a man who needs guidance. He may want Erenoth to welcome him.”
“Khalid was a thief in his younger years,” Azim said. “He stole gold and jewels from rich, selfish merchants and pawned them for coin to give to the people who needed it. He risked his life and his freedom to fight against the Sultans who oppressed and stole from their people. I absolutely believe that kind man is still inside him.”
Angus looked up at Brynn. “Sir,” he said. “I know nothing of Khalid’s past. But what I saw that night was not the action of an evil man. He freed the children and helped me to kill the guards; his own people. If he was an enemy, then he has definitely had a change of heart.”
“I accept that,” Brynn stated. “If we meet him again, and I see a different man than what I saw at Taryn, then I will forgive him.”
Azim touched Brynn’s shoulder in friendship. “Then you, too, show your honor, my friend,” he said.
“We should get to Bray as soon as possible,” Angen interrupted. “We need their ships, and the scoundrels who sail them.”
“Right,” Eamon agreed. “Angus, once again, I thank you. You will be rewarded for your bravery.”
“The only reward I wish is to open my forge again,” Angus replied. “These people need weapons, but I am shorthanded.”
“There are seventeen strong men here to help you,” Eamon said, pointing to the captive Jindala. “They seem to have lost their will. Be sure to feed them.”
Angus nodded and watched Eamon ride to the captive group. “You will do exactly what Angus tells you,” the Prince said, firmly. “Do you understand?”
Those who understood nodded and translated for the others.
“I am not one to condemn those who are forced to fight against their will,” Eamon continued. “Do as you’re told, and cause no trouble, and you will be welcome in my Kingdom.”
The men said nothing, but seemed at a loss as to why they weren’t being marched to their deaths. It was beyond their understanding.
As the Knights prepared to ride to Bray, Angus spoke up once more.
“My Lord,” he said. “Though you are not the Prince of this Kingdom, I shall honor you as such. If you plan to lay claim to the throne, you have my sword.”
“I would be most honored to have your support, Angus,” Eamon said. “If you wish, speak to Ulrich, my Captain. He is King of the Northmen that reside on this island, and is in command in my absence.”
Angus nodded, and then turned to look over the captive Jindala. They were able bodied, to be sure, and Angus would use them to the best of their abilities. He had no doubt that they would comply with his wishes. The forge would be reopened in no time.
“Come, my friends,” Eamon said to his Knights. “Bray awaits!”
Chapter Three
Khalid awoke on the Dragon’s throne with a start. He shot up immediately after opening his eyes, and patted down his body to extinguish the flames that had engulfed him. He realized his foolishness, however, seeing that he wasn’t actually on fire, and sighed with relief. He breathed deeply, letting his heart slow to a steady pace. He closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands, and stood in silence as he composed himself. Then, realizing he was not alone, Khalid spread his fingers and looked through them.
Before him was a man standing with his head cocked, staring at him curiously. The man was dressed in an ornate black tunic, with pieces of intricately decorated black plate armor over his shoulders, forearms, and knees. His boots were black, with bright silver buckles, and two beautifully crafted swords were strapped to his back. He had black hair, with bangs that were swept back and tied, and his eyes were pale blue.
Strangely, despite the man’s dangerous appearance, Khalid was not afraid. He returned the man’s curious stare, saying nothing, waiting for the stranger to make the first move. After several intense seconds, the man spoke.
“Hello, Khalid.” he said, his voice soft, yet commanding. “I am Erenoth, High Priest of Dol Drakkar.”
Khalid simply nodded, still unsure whether the man was real.
“I see that my appearance was unexpected,” Erenoth stated, relaxing his posture and stepping onto the riser. “But I am here to help you.”
“How did you know my name?” Khalid asked.
“I am the Dragon’s servant,” Erenoth replied. “He told me your name, and he called me here as he did you.”
“Why?”
Erenoth smiled. “To help you begin your journey,” he said.
Khalid backed up to sit back down on the throne, but thought better of it. He began to pace nervously, unsure of his purpose.
“I don’t even know why I am here,” he said. “Or why the Dragon chose me to walk his path.”
“The Dragon works in strange ways, my friend,” Erenoth said. “I was in the same state of confusion when I first heard his call.”
“Were you a thief and a murderer as well?” Khalid asked.
Erenoth narrowed his gaze, putting his hands behind his back and pacing. “I was an assassin,” he replied, “for a kingdom across the sea. I came here to seek adventure, and the sport of hunting the primitive people of this island. But when I stepped foot on shore, the Dragon called to me from Dol Drakkar. I went there, unsure of what lay in the ruins. When I arrived, I met the Dragon, much as you did.”
“You were an assassin and a hunter of men?” he repeated. “So you know my confusion?”
“I do. And I know what the Dragon did to you, though it was not necessary. You had already redeemed yourself through action, but he obliged your request because he knew you would never accept your worth until your sins were purged. I find that very honorable, Khalid.”
“I don’t feel any better about myself,” Khalid said. “I’m still the same Khalid I was before.”
“No, my friend,” Erenoth said. “Not in spirit, and not in body, either. Look into the mirror again. The Dragon has made you whole.”
Khalid stared at Erenoth curiously, seeing him nod in encouragement. Khalid turned, reluctantly going to the mirror once more. Though he was apprehensive, he looked into its glassy surface. He was shocked at what he saw.
Khalid looked twenty years younger. His hair, though still slightly gray, was no longer unkempt and in disarray. It was neatly brushed back and cascaded over his shoulders in clean, even curls. His eyes
were no longer drooping and puffy, but were bright and filled with life. Even his nose, which had been broken by the warrior in Taryn, was straight again. He looked down at his body, though, and frowned.
“I’m still a little fat,” he joked, patting his ample belly. “Not as much as before, but…better.”
Erenoth chuckled. “That is something you will have to work on yourself,” he said.
Khalid shrugged. “So, what happens next?” he asked.
Erenoth reached to the left side of the mirror where a round depression was carved into the wall. In the center was a hand-shaped print, which Erenoth covered with his own hand and turned. The entire assembly turned with him, making an audible click. The mirror suddenly shifted down slightly, sank into the wall, and slid to the side.
The doorway that appeared opened in a large, sparsely decorated, yet comfortable chamber. Along one wall was a small bed, dressed in dark blue blankets and skirting. Beside it was a wooden writing desk, perfect and unblemished, with an oil lamp atop it. There were bookshelves along the other walls, another mirror, and several tapestries displaying arcane symbols. In the far corner, a large armoire stood open, filled with extravagant robes and several swords of Khalid’s liking. There were scimitars, kilijes, kukris, and all manner of swords that appealed to his fighting style.
Khalid’s attention, however, was focused on the bed. It had been days since he had gotten a good night’s sleep, and even longer since he had slept on a good bed.
“Before we begin,” Erenoth said. “It is important that you rest. The road ahead will not be an easy one, and your duties as high priest will be taxing on your body.”
Khalid nodded. “What will be my first step?” he asked.
The Ascent (Book 2) Page 3