“They have also indicated that Faerbane will be the landing place for any major troop transports,” Azim continued. “And that the Enkhatar will land there. The other annotations tell how many troops are stationed in each town. There is also a note pointing to these ruins in the mountains, and the mines nearby.”
“The ruins are Tel Drakkar,” Eamon said. “The Dragon temple in the south. What do the notes near the mine say?”
“It says that there are twenty four men and a Defiler there, all led by Sultan Massoud.”
“Another Sultan?” Eamon exclaimed. “Like Tyrus?”
“No,” Azim assured him. “Tyrus was a sorcerer. Massoud is simply a gold monger. That is probably why he is there.”
“The miners there are few,” Eamon said. “Though they are skilled with weapons, I doubt they could stand up against such a force. They may be dead already.”
“We are too far away to help them now,” Angen lamented. “But if Erenoth is at Tel Drakkar, he may be aware of the Jindala’s presence.”
Eamon nodded, staring at the map. “This is a valuable map,” he said. “We will keep it and consult it when needed.”
Wrothgaar suddenly looked up toward the door, causing the other knights to turn. Brynn and Daryth appeared on the walkway, quickly heading into the building. The knights gathered around them as they entered.
“Eamon,” Daryth began, “there was a dragon outside near the platform. It killed one of the guards as they came near us.”
“A dragon?” Eamon asked, confused. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Brynn replied. “It was the same shape as Erenoth, only smaller.”
Eamon shook his head. Why was there a dragon in Bray? Why was there a dragon at all? He thought the only dragons in existence were those at the temples; the Priests of Drakkar. Perhaps it was another creature similar to a dragon, or another priest he didn’t know of. Whatever the case, the creature had been stalking the village, killing the enemy guards.
“Once we meet up with Erenoth again,” Eamon said, “we can tell him of this dragon. Perhaps he can identify it.”
Light suddenly flashed outside the building, followed by a deafening explosion. The buildings and their connecting walkways shook with the impact. The knights rushed to the doorway to investigate.
Offshore, the Jindala ship moored in the bay was aflame. Kegs of black powder exploded randomly, sending more concussion waves into the town, and filling the sky with black smoke. Townspeople began to appear in their doorways, glaring in surprise and shock.
The remaining guards rushed along the walkways, commanding the people to return to their homes. Through the smoke, a winged form appeared, soaring through the chaos, sending jets of flame toward the burning ship.
“It’s the Dragon!” Brynn exclaimed. “It’s destroying the Jindala ship.”
The knights quickly made their way along the walkways, racing to get to the docks. Townspeople stood about, fearful of the dragon and shocked at the sight of the armored knights. Most of the women, Eamon saw, were veiled, having been forced by the Jindala to cover their faces.
“Remove your veils!” Eamon shouted to them. “You are free!”
Hearing Eamon’s voice, the Jindala guards issued the order to attack. They made their way through the maze of walkways to confront the knights. Wrothgaar raised his axe in the air, screaming his battle cry, and charged. The two guards who rushed toward him stopped in their tracks, backing away as the huge Northman barreled toward them. Wrothgaar swung his axe in a wide arc as he charged, pushing the guards back further.
Azim leaped from behind Wrothgaar to another walkway where more guards were drawing their bows. He landed among them, his twin scimitars flashing in the moonlight. He spun gracefully, slashing his swords in a deadly dance as he attacked. The guards backed away, dropping their bows and drawing their blades. Azim’s swords were like a wall of death, slashing and hacking at the guards, their own swords clashing with his. One guard ducked Azim’s blades, coming underneath with an upward slash. Azim blocked with his left sword, kicking the man in the face, and slashing his neck with his right. With the same motion he spun again, attacking with a blinding double slash, disarming another guard, and striking a blow in the man’s chest. The remaining guards stood motionless as Azim calmly stepped forward over the bodies of their comrades.
Angen barreled through another group of guards, knocking several of them off the walkway into the water below. He punched and kicked them back, making room to draw his great sword. With a howl and a downward chop, he charged them, splitting a Jindala skull and drawing back to thrust into another one’s gut. He withdrew his bloodied blade, growling and gritting his teeth in triumph.
Brynn and Daryth fired in unison, picking off guards that attempted to flank the other knights. Their arrows never missed their targets.
Eamon spotted another group approaching from the shore, apparently fleeing from the attacking dragon. He charged them, the Serpent’s Tongue glowing with his rage. He shifted forward with his blinding attack, disemboweling the first guard and sending him back into the guards behind him. They were thrown backward with the impact, dropping their blades and struggling to remain on the swaying walkway. Eamon charged, swinging his sword in a wide, downward arc. He sliced another guard open, and then crossed his blade to slash in a backhand attack. The remaining guard’s head fell to the ground, and Eamon kicked his body over the railing. He ran toward the shore to reach the docks, watching as the dragon continued its assault.
Wrothgaar continued to chop at his opponents, his axe hacking into the guards with sickening splats. When he had finished them off, he turned to join the rest of the knights as they rushed to the docks. Brynn and Daryth followed, firing at the remaining Jindala who crouched on the rooftops.
The dragon continued strafing the ship and the Jindala that had jumped overboard to escape the flames. Eamon raised his sword in the air, hoping the dragon would see it and recognize the blade. The creature soared in and out of the smoke, firing balls of flame into the already ruined ship. Then, grasping the flaming mast with its claws, it flapped its wings and pulled. With a loud crack, the mast broke off, toppling into the water below, crushing many of the fleeing enemies.
The townspeople cheered seeing the ship destroyed. The knights encouraged them, raising their own weapons in the air and shouting with them. Wrothgaar howled like a wolf, bringing a smile to Eamon’s face. Even Azim, who once fought alongside the Jindala, was cheering in victory.
As the knights and the townspeople watched, the dragon gave one final piercing screech and dove toward the docks. It flew closely over the knights’ heads, hissing as it went by, and disappeared into the night.
“Why is he leaving?” Brynn shouted.
Eamon sheathed his sword, watching the sky where the dragon had disappeared. “I don’t know,” he said. “The better question would be where it came from.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t one of the priests?” Wrothgaar asked. “They may have the ability to transform like Erenoth.”
“It could be,” Eamon replied. “I don’t know for sure. Like I said, Erenoth may know.”
The knights all sheathed their weapons, watching as the crowd of townspeople gathered around them. Eamon looked among them, seeing their expressions of confusion. He addressed them as best as he could.
“People of Bray,” he began. “I am Prince Eamon of the Northern Kingdom. These are the Knights of the Dragon. You are now free. The Jindala have been destroyed, and you may all return to your normal lives.”
Among the townspeople, an older man stepped forward. He was dressed in rags like the rest, but was scarred and built like a warrior. He approached Eamon, extending his hand in friendship.
“Greetings, Prince Eamon,” he said. “I am Velos, the dock master and former captain of the guards. We appreciate your help, and the help of the dragon.”
“It is good to meet you, Velos,” Eamon greeted him. “If you have any guards remaining, ass
emble them and prepare for another attack. The Jindala will return soon from the sea. We will remain to help you fight them off.”
“Most of my men were executed,” Velos said. “But there are many young men left who are willing to fight.”
“Good. Get them together. Do you have weapons?”
Velos scratched his head. “Not many,” he said. “The Jindala took most of them. We have plenty of fishing spears, but not much else that could be used to fight with.”
“Gather the weapons of the dead Jindala,” Eamon suggested. “Distribute them to the men accordingly. They will be mostly scimitars and spears. Make sure the bows are given to the best archers.”
“Right,” Velos replied. “I will have them ready by morning.”
Eamon nodded, turning to his knights as Velos left to gather his new men. “We will remain here to help them fight off the Jindala,” he said. “They are inexperienced and poorly armed, so we will have to make the best of what we have.”
“If there are any kegs of black powder left,” Brynn said, “we can rig them up to a simple catapult and fire them at the ships as they arrive.”
“Can you build one quickly?” Eamon asked.
“Angen and I can do it,” Brynn replied. “We did it once against the islanders. It didn’t take more than a few hours. We can use the ropes and wood from one of the older buildings.”
“Do it,” Eamon said. “But do it in the morning. I will arrange for some lodgings. We all need a good night’s sleep before the ships arrive.”
Brynn nodded, and the knights parted to mingle among the townspeople. They walked through the crowd, introducing themselves and humbly receiving the thanks of a grateful town. Eamon watched them proudly, grateful that his knights retained their humility in the face of such a great victory. Even with the large amount praise the people gave them, they shrugged off the compliments, stating they were simply doing their duty to the people.
He had chosen them well.
Chapter Five
Khalid awoke refreshed and energetic, having finally gotten a good night’s sleep in the temple’s bedchamber. The bed had provided a comforting place to rest his weary body, and the atmosphere of the room had been conducive to relaxing and unwinding. Despite being constructed of stone, the chamber was warm and the air inside seemed to circulate well. It did not feel thick and damp as one would expect, but retained a comfortable level of humidity that rejuvenated Khalid’s whole body.
Though his sleep was not troubled and full of nightmares as it had been of late, he was disappointed that Imbra had not come to him in his dreams. The last time he dreamed of his beloved Father, he felt a sense of love and acceptance that he had not felt since he was a young man. He hoped that Imbra would visit him soon. For now, he was glad that he was able to commune with the Dragon, and his new friend.
Khalid yawned and stretched, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. The floor was warm and inviting, and he stood up without hesitation. He stretched again, looking around the room. The armoire was still open, and inside, as before, a set of black robes hung prominently in the center. He went to the armoire and removed the robes, admiring the velvet and leather garments with awe. They looked like they would fit, and he gladly stripped off his trousers to find out.
He spread the suit out on the bed, noting the different layers. There was a pair of tight fitting wool trousers, which were to be worn underneath the black leather pants that were also present. An identical shirt of wool was underneath a black leather tunic with an elaborate belt. There were black boots with silver buckles, a pair of armored gauntlets, and armored shoulder pads.
He slowly dressed, looking at himself in the mirror as he did, and went back to the armoire for the cloak that completed his vestments. He returned to the mirror, admiring his new clothes. He no longer seemed like himself. He was more like the old Khalid; the dashing thief of Khem who picked the pockets and robbed the mansions of the rich. He laughed to himself as he pondered those days of his youth.
“Don’t forget your swords, my friend,” Erenoth said at the door.
Khalid turned, embarrassed at his self-admiration. “I was just remembering the days of my youth, when I wore clothes similar to these.”
Erenoth chuckled as he entered. “These clothes are different,” he said. “Not only will they hide you in the shadows, but they will eventually become a part of you. Over time, they will change to suit your fighting style, and may look different than they do now.”
“That is fascinating,” Khalid said, going back to admiring himself in the mirror.
“The knights’ dragon armor is the same,” Erenoth said. “When you meet them, you will notice that their armor is suited to each of them and their skills.”
Khalid turned, smiling at the thought of the knights. “I am looking forward to meeting them,” he said.
“Soon, my friend. Soon. For now, choose your weapons and meet me in the throne room.”
Khalid nodded, leaving the mirror to examine the many weapons that hung in the armoire. Among them, a pair of identical scimitars hung side by side, seeming to gleam in the dim light of Khalid’s bedchamber. He removed them, studying each blade. They were very detailed in their decoration; having the same symbols that adorned the throne carved into their blades. The handles were carved of onyx, with a dragon’s head on each pommel. Both blades were perfectly weighted and balanced, as if they were forged by the gods themselves.
Khalid was used to two-handed fighting, as he had perfected the technique as a young thief. His sword master had taught him the fighting style to accentuate his speed and ferocity. Though while in the service of The Lifegiver he had let his skills wane, he knew once he held a good set of blades in battle, the technique would come back to him. He looked forward to showing his skills to his new friend, and seeing that the priest also fought two-handed, he was curious as to Erenoth’s skills as well.
Khalid stuffed the blades into his belt, taking one last look at himself in the mirror, and joined Erenoth in the throne room.
“I’m ready,” he said, seeing Erenoth awaiting him patiently.
Erenoth nodded. “We will go to the training room,” he said, turning and motioning Khalid to follow. “I have no doubt your skills are formidable, but you must be prepared to fight multiple opponents. We will test your skills accordingly.”
Khalid followed the priest to an area north of the throne to a staircase that he had not previously seen. It was hidden among the rubble, but, like the throne, was perfect and unblemished by age.
“This temple will have to be rebuilt,” Khalid remarked.
“Yes,” Erenoth replied, continuing down the stairway. “Dol Drakkar is being rebuilt as we speak. My priests are going at the task. When your priests arrive, they will do so here.”
“My priests?”
“Your priests. They are yours to choose, and yours to lead.”
Khalid furrowed his brow. “How will I choose them?” he asked.
“You will know when you meet them,” Erenoth replied. “When we are done here, we will find them.”
Khalid said nothing, but followed Erenoth downward. Ahead, the stairway brightened somewhat, a faint blue glow lighting their way as they descended. At the bottom, a large stone door stood, carved with the usual symbols, but with a pair of crossed swords adorning its center. They were scimitars like Khalid’s own.
“Have there been many priests who fight with scimitars?” Khalid asked.
“No,” Erenoth replied. “You are the first.”
“Then how is it that this symbol is a pair of scimitars?”
“The Dragon knows all,” Erenoth said. “Past, present, and future. You have always been destined to be a priest of the Dragon.”
Khalid grunted. “Interesting,” he said. “What of the priests who were here before? Did they not question the symbol as well?”
“No,” Erenoth said, simply. He opened the door, revealing a well-lit room beyond, and beckoned Khalid inside.
“What are those statues?” Khalid asked.
“You will see soon,” Erenoth replied, moving to the center of the room where a large sparring circle was carved into the floor. “Nothing is as it appears.”
Khalid nodded, not fully understanding Erenoth’s answer, but stepped into the circle. Erenoth stood motionless, locking eyes with Khalid.
“I can see by your eyes,” Erenoth said, “that you are confident in your abilities, yet maintain an aura of curiosity.”
“Yes,” Khalid agreed. “I am curious as to your fighting style, and your skill.”
Erenoth smiled, drawing his twin swords. “Then let’s have at it,” he said.
Khalid drew his scimitars, taking a scorpion stance, with one leg and sword forward, the other leg bent and to the back. His other blade was turned upward above him, facing Erenoth.
“You are left-handed,” Erenoth noted. “Just like the Prince.”
“Perhaps,” Khalid said, smiling.
Erenoth took his own battle stance; crouched low, with his blades crossed before him. They stood motionless, each waiting for the other to attack. Khalid smiled, knowing that Erenoth would not make the first move. Stepping forward quickly, he struck with his left sword, followed by a quick slash of his right. Erenoth leaped into the air, spinning past Khalid’s blades, striking back with a downward thrust as he passed. Khalid swung his blade back over his shoulder, blocking the attack, and ducked under, standing ready as Erenoth landed.
Erenoth turned, laughing as he saw Khalid prepared so quickly for another attack. Despite his stature, the man was incredibly quick and agile. Erenoth was impressed.
The Ascent (Book 2) Page 7