“Where does Kronos lie?” Jodocus asked.
“He lies in the North,” the Great Mother said. “In the land of giants.”
“I would not want to see Wrothgaar’s people put in danger.” Maedoc said. “They are strong warriors and we will need them in the upcoming battles.”
“There is another way.”
The Great Mother turned to Farouk, who straightened. His heart pounded in anticipation of her answer.
“One of you must travel to the North and wake him,” she said. “Jodocus and Maedoc are too old to make the journey. But you, Farouk are young and strong.”
“I will do whatever you ask, Mother,” Farouk said. “I am yours to command.”
The Great Mother smiled, approaching Farouk and caressing his face. “I know, my child,” she said. “And I know you will succeed. You are the only one who can do this.”
Maedoc looked at Farouk, nodding his approval. “I believe he can, as well,” he said. “I can sense his strength and will.”
“And I concur,” Jodocus agreed.
The Great Mother returned to the center of the triangle, facing Jodocus once more. “Before I speak to Farouk alone,” she said, “ask me what you will.”
“What is the nature of The Lifegiver?” Jodocus asked. “What is his true being?”
“The Lifegiver has existed from the beginning,” she answered. “When the Universe came into being, The Lifegiver, known as the Absu or the darkness, was created. Its purpose was to cause chaos, the very chaos that is required to create order.”
The three men winced slightly at the contradiction. The Great Mother smiled at their confusion. “To create matter,” she continued, “energy must be concentrated.”
The Great Mother summoned a cloud of energy above her; a featureless ball of light that floated motionless.
“This is complete order,” she said. “Without chaos, the Universe would remain this way forever. It is only by adding chaos that parts of this energy cloud can be concentrated and stars can form. Once these small eddies of chaos are able to draw enough material into a point, the forces of the Universe can begin creation. It is also this chaos that pushed the Universe into this shape to begin with. It was Absu’s intention to undo the Universe’s introspection and dissolve it. What Absu did not realize was that chaos was the very reason it was created.”
“This is what I feared,” Jodocus stated. “Undoing order was the intention, but creation itself was the result. Now he seeks to destroy all life.”
“Correct,” the Great Mother said.
“Then how did Absu enter this plane of existence?” Maedoc inquired. “And why did he choose this world?”
“Absu has destroyed many worlds,” the Great Mother replied. “Directly or through his tools; the voids that exist in space. This world exists in many planes, and throughout all the planes of existence, it is the most abundant with life. Therefore, the power of creation is strong here. Absu was able to open a small link between his dimension and this one through this well of life. Through this link, he was able to communicate with a mortal being here.”
“Tyrus,” Farouk said.
“Yes,” she answered. “Many thousands of years ago, when mankind was still in an age of barbarism and primitive ways, he found Tyrus. Absu communicated with him, convincing him to assist in opening the link and allow his darkness through.”
“And he cannot be destroyed?” Maedoc mused.
“No, only banished from this realm. His existence is required for the Universe to continue creation. It is only at the end of time that Absu and the Universe of matter and energy can be reunited.”
The three of them contemplated this revelation, unsure as to its entire meaning. Even the ancient Jodocus was at a loss. Only Traegus, with his knowledge of science and chemistry, would even begin to understand.
“There is one other thing, Mother,” Jodocus said. “There was a creature, a wraith, in the forest near Morduin. Where did it come from, and why was it here?”
The Great Mother turned to Jodocus. “The dead walk among you,” she replied. “The Lifegiver upsets the balance. You know this. He has the power to raise the dead and to steal the souls of the living. Even now, his strongest creations, the Enkhatar, are on their way to Eirenoch, and they bring death with them.”
“Death?” Farouk said.
“The Lifegiver has created an army of undead. In this land, they are known as wights. They are soulless humans, trapped in their twisted and grotesque bodies, under the control of their master. They can multiply by transforming those they kill. They must be dealt with first, before their numbers are allowed to grow. The Priests of Drakkar can assist you.”
“Tell me, Mother,” Farouk said. “Where is Erenoth now?”
“Erenoth trains a new priest,” the Great Mother said. “One who will be his counterpart at Tel Drakkar. He is one of your kinsmen, Farouk. A man named Khalid.”
Farouk nodded, recognizing the name. “I know him,” he said. “And he is now a servant of the Dragon?”
“Yes, Imbra has convinced him to serve the Dragon and bring his courage and will to this battle. He will be a great asset in the future.”
“Who or what are the Enkhatar, exactly?” Farouk asked.
The Great Mother lowered her head in sorrow, knowing the answer would not be pleasing to Farouk. “You know of them,” she said. “They were once warriors of great honor and respect in your lands.”
“The Keynakin,” Farouk said with a lamented tone.
The Great Mother nodded, floating closer to Farouk to ease his pain. “The Lifegiver took their souls,” she explained. “He then twisted them and corrupted them into creatures of utter darkness. Fault them not, my child. They, like you, fell under the spell of Absu. Though their bodies are under the control of The Lifegiver, their souls are pure. However, they are trapped in torment. They must be freed from their prison. This will be the task of the Knights of the Dragon.”
“How will the Knights find them?” Maedoc asked.
“The Enkhatar will seek them out,” the Great Mother replied. “Farouk’s brother, Azim, carries the sword of their leader, Sulemain. They will surely try to retrieve it.”
Farouk’s eyes widened at the thought. “How did Azim come by this weapon?” he asked.
“It was wielded by a Jindala noble,” she answered. “It was powerless to this noble, but came to life once again when held by a righteous man, your brother.”
“I have no doubt that Azim will wield it with honor,” Jodocus remarked. “He is a noble man with a great spirit and a pure heart.”
Farouk silently thanked Jodocus for his words, knowing that Azim’s purity of heart was quite obvious, especially to the Druid. Jodocus had previously held Azim’s own scimitar, sensing that it had never spilled the blood of the innocent.
“The sword of Sulemain is a powerful weapon,” Farouk added. “And Azim’s heart would be pure enough to unleash it.”
“It is true, my child,” the Great Mother agreed. “Azim was born to wield it.”
Farouk smiled and nodded.
“Jodocus,” the Great Mother addressed the Druid. “Eamon needs your guidance. Go to him when you are able. He is in Bray. He will ask about a dragon that was spotted in the sky. I have no answer to give other than that I do not sense any life coming from this creature.”
“I don’t understand,” Jodocus replied.
“The Druaga may know,” the Great Mother said. “They may have had a hand in its appearance. Seek them out if need be.”
“I will tell him,” Jodocus replied. “And I thank you for speaking to us. It has been a great honor, as always, to be in your presence.”
The Great Mother then turned to Farouk, approaching him and placing her hand upon his chest. Farouk swallowed, feeling the power of her touch flow through his body.
“My child,” she said. “I will give you the power to break one of Kronos’ bonds. He has the strength to break the rest. I wish I did not have to se
nd you on this task, but I have no choice. I do not wish to summon a star to fall from the sky. Such an object would cause too much destruction and I cannot bear to kill any more of my children.”
“I understand, Mother,” Farouk said. “I am honored to do your bidding.”
“I will imprint the location of Kronos’ prison into your mind. This way, you will not need a map to reach your destination. Be wary, Farouk. You will face many dangers along the way. The Northmen are suspicious and may mistake you for a Jindala. But their shamans will know that you are a Druid. Do not hesitate to demand to speak to them if you cross paths with their warriors.”
“I will remember this,” Farouk said. “Thank you.”
“And lastly, remember that once you reach Kronos, your task is complete. You may return with my blessing. Kronos and his warriors will know what to do from there.”
“If I am asked,” Farouk said, “am I to reveal my mission?”
“To the Northmen, yes,” the Great Mother replied. “Kronos is their Grandfather. The Father of all of their gods. If they know you are there to free him, they will be sympathetic to your cause, and may aid you in some way. But you will have to convince the King of the North, Cannuck. He is a shrewd man, but is fair and reasonable.”
“I understand,” Farouk replied.
“Very well, my children,” the Great Mother said. “I grow weary and must rest. The Lifegiver has drained me beyond my ability to commune for long periods of time.”
“Thank you for your wisdom,” Maedoc said, bowing in respect. Jodocus bowed as well, prompting Farouk to do the same.
“Goodbye, my children,” she said, fading from sight with a subtle sparkling of earthen magic.
The three were left to recover from the powerful presence of the Great Mother. Such communions were taxing on the soul, even more so than a communion with the Dragon. The Great Mother was the source of all life, and even in her weakened state, her power was overwhelming. Farouk, being a novice at such awesome rituals, was moved beyond words. He stood frozen, contemplating the encounter, and desperately trying to make sense of his feelings.
He felt the hands of Maedoc and Jodocus upon him. It was a great comfort. The two sensed his confusion and his outpouring of emotion. They both remembered the way they felt after their first communion with the Great Mother and knew that Farouk would need assistance coming out of it.
“Easy now, my friend,” Jodocus said. “Sit if you need to. The Great Mother is a powerful spirit, indeed, and her presence can be hard to get used to.”
Farouk sat with the help of the others, crossing his legs and rubbing his face with his hands. “I am...awed beyond words,” he gasped. “And apprehensive as well. This task is so much to bear.”
“We will speak of it later,” Jodocus said. “For now, it is best that you rest and regain your strength.”
“Yes,” Maedoc agreed. “I will remain if Jodocus doesn’t mind. I will provide you with some tools you can use on your journey.”
“It would be most appreciated, Maedoc,” Farouk thanked him.
“Let’s go inside now, Farouk,” Jodocus suggested. “I will prepare a tonic for your nerves. Maybe some lotus tea would be nice?”
“Yes,” Farouk replied. “That sounds good.”
Maedoc and Jodocus helped Farouk to his feet, firmly holding him up as they entered the stairwell into the tower. Farouk was glad for the help, and that both of them were there to counsel him before his journey. It would be a difficult task, for sure, and he would need all the help he could get. He would be traveling in a foreign land, with a climate that was the complete opposite of his homeland. And he would encounter people that would see him as nothing more than an invading Jindala. It was a prospect he did not look forward to.
Never in his life did Farouk ever imagine he would be asked to perform such a difficult task. His life had been fairly uneventful up until now. But he knew his new life would lead him back to a path of righteousness, and he wasn’t one to turn down the chance to redeem himself. The Lifegiver was now, and had always been, the enemy. He would do all he could to help send the being back to its own dimension. His first step was to become a Druid. He did that. Now, he would serve the Great Mother and all of the Firstborn. To do this, he would follow her wishes to the letter, regardless of the danger. He would attempt to awaken Kronos and set him free; a task that would help to ensure the Lifegiver’s defeat.
Chapter Seven
Morning had broken over the town of Bray. Mist slowly rolled in from the sea, floating among the wooden buildings and swirling gently in the wind. There was a chill in the air, and the townsfolk who had gathered with their weapons held their cloaks tight about them to keep warm.
Along the cliffs that looked over the coast and surrounded the town, Bray’s best archers were lined up. Within their groups, Azim, Daryth, and Brynn stood command. Small fires and barrels of tar were distributed among the men for the upcoming defense. Each man was equipped with dozens of arrows that he could coat with tar and set aflame. The Jindala would meet a cloud of fiery missiles upon their arrival.
At the east side of town, Angen and Wrothgaar manned the quickly fashioned catapult. It was a simple but effective design. Timbers had been tied together into a long shaft, which was then lashed to the supporting piers. The shaft was placed upright, and a rope tied to its basket. Wrothgaar, who stood waiting about twenty yards behind it, would wind the rope around a crank-equipped wheel to draw the catapult back. Angen would then place a barrel of black powder in the basket, and the Northman would release the contraption by letting go of the crank.
Eamon gazed at the catapult with doubt. Though Brynn and Angen had both had confidence in the makeshift weapon, its structure seemed too crude and simple to be very effective.
“We need to test this thing,” the Prince said. “We’ll have to see if it will throw a barrel far enough to reach the ships when they arrive.”
“No problem,” Angen replied. “Wrothgaar, pull it back!”
The Northman nodded, grasping the metal crank and beginning the process of pulling back the shaft. As he cranked, the shaft bent, slowly curving back toward where Angen stood. Though apparently flexible, the shaft creaked and groaned as it neared Angen’s platform. Eamon gritted his teeth, expecting it to snap. To his surprise, the shaft gave enough to line up the basket to be loaded. Nodding, Angen grabbed a barrel full of stones, equaling the weight of the black powder barrels, and dropped it into the basket.
When the barrel was in the right place, he turned and nodded to Wrothgaar. The Northman let loose the crank, quickly stepping back to avoid the spinning handle. The shaft snapped back into the vertical position with a twang, hurling the barrel as far as the eye could see. Smiling, Eamon watched the barrel soar through the air, only to splash into the surf several hundred yards out from shore.
“Ha!” Angen shouted. “It works!”
“Nice job, men,” Eamon said, smiling. He looked to the cliffs, seeing Brynn nodding in the distance. The Prince raised his fist in the air, signaling his approval.
“How many barrels do we have?” Eamon shouted to Angen.
“Eight,” Angen replied. “If our aim is good, that should be enough to sink three or four ships.”
“Excellent,” Eamon exclaimed. “Let’s hope they sail close enough and in the right direction.”
“Let’s hope our dragon friend returns to join in the fun,” Wrothgaar added.
The dragon.
Eamon was still at a loss as to the nature of this mysterious beast. It had been stalking the town, silently killing the Jindala guards, and had attacked the enemy ship. It was obviously an enemy of the Jindala, but whether or not it was a friend to the Knights remained to be seen. Though he had not heard of any wild dragons not associated with the great Dragon himself, Eamon still considered the possibility that this was the case. A wild dragon was not unheard of, after all. There had once been thousands of dragons in the past.
Perhaps they were ret
urning.
Along the ridge, Brynn made his way behind the line of archers to where Azim was standing. The former Jindala stared out over the shore and off to the South. His eyes were squinted in the morning sun, and his face was grave.
“How many ships do you anticipate?” Brynn asked him as he approached.
Azim turned to him, and then looked back over the sea. “The ships can carry fifty men a piece,” he replied. “I don’t anticipate a large force. The Jindala are not aware of our army in Gaellos. The men that will arrive here are meant to support the larger army from Faerbane that was dispatched to retake the city. Their numbers should be few.”
“That’s good news.”
“The only problem will be luring them into the line of fire,” Azim added. “The catapult can only fire in one direction.”
Brynn chuckled, clapping Azim on the back. “It does have its limitations,” he said. “But that’s the price you pay for the lack of materials and time.”
Azim smiled. “I’m sure it will work just fine.”
“I hope so,” Brynn said. “We only have eight tries.”
Azim returned his gaze to the sea, scanning the horizon for any sign of enemy ships. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Brynn was fidgeting, kicking the dirt with his boots.
“What is it, my friend?” he asked the younger man.
“I was wondering what it was that made you doubt The Lifegiver.” Brynn said.
“I had always had my doubts,” Azim replied. “But it wasn’t until I came to this island that I realized how much truth was behind them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Azim began, “Imbra, in our culture, is the god of peace, love, and knowledge. He was always known to be a kind, compassionate entity who helped our people thrive in the face of any obstacle. But The Lifegiver is the complete opposite. He is cruel, spiteful, and cares nothing for life. Everyone knows this, but his power has blinded the people to that fact. It was the Dragon’s strength in this land that allowed my brother and I to see through this mask.”
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