Into Oblivion (Book 4)

by Shawn E. Crapo

  Kronos grinned.

  “Imbra!!!!!” Yin-Kai growled. “Come, brother! He is in danger.”

  The two Firstborn bounded off into the valley, racing to reach their brother’s temple in time.

  Sulemain struck with his sword, attempting to cripple Imbra with a hack to the knee. The Firstborn swatted his sword away, and triple-slashed in a blinding counter attack. All three blades connected, knocking Sulemain into the sand.

  “You were my child!” Imbra roared. “I gave you life! I gave you love, and this is how you repay your father?”

  The remaining Enkhatar charged, each swinging his weapon. Imbra roared as he blocked, striking back with each blow. Two Enkhatar caught the strikes, and they fell back into the dust. Imbra charged them, knocking the standing Enkhatar out of the way. With another roar, he skewered the prone creature, fending off rear attacks with his remaining four swords.

  The two Enkhatar exploded with a massive shock wave that blew their armor to pieces. The darkness that drove them coiled away and dissipated, leaving nothing but the empty husks of black, twisted armor.

  Sulemain summoned the power of Absu with a deafening screech. He leaped into the air, grasping his sword with both hands. He chopped downward, hoping to finish Imbra with a beheading strike. The Firstborn dropped his top two swords, catching Sulemain in the air. He pulled his former child close to his massive, fearsome face, fending off the remaining four Enkhatar with his other swords.

  He squeezed with all his might, hearing the dark armor creak and groan under the pressure. Sulemain dropped his sword, using his bladed gauntlets to cut Imbra’s relentless fists.

  “I will withstand all of the pain in creation to destroy this perversion I see before me!” Imbra growled.

  With all of his might, Imbra slammed Sulemain into the side of the chasm. The thunderous clanking of metal on stone shook the chasm. Sulemain rolled down into the sand, his armor damaged, but still intact. Imbra turned to the other Enkhatar, clanking his swords together and urging them to attack.

  Behind him, Sulemain stood, summoning a whirlwind that enveloped him fully, sweeping him away in its shadowy arms.

  The Enkhatar charged, seeing their master safely escape.

  Imbra leaped to the side, slashing with three swords as the dark knights passed. They dodged, positioning themselves around the Firstborn. They screeched menacingly as Imbra took up his defensive stance.

  Then, one of the Enkhatar was cleaved in two as a massive katana appeared from nowhere and chopped downward. The Enkhatar fell in two pieces, strands of darkness stretching between them in an attempt to hold it together. Another Enkhatar was bashed with a giant hammer; crushed like a flimsy helmet into the sand.

  Imbra struck the remaining two, spinning his six blades in a blinding attack that sliced them into metallic ribbons. The dark energy that filled the air was overwhelming, and Imbra stepped back as it swirled and faded away. When the light returned, Imbra laughed at what he saw.

  There stood two of his brothers.

  “Imbra!” Yin-Kai growled. “It is good to see you, brother.”

  The giant ogre rushed to Imbra, clasping him in a tight embrace that lifted his massive body off the ground. When the ogre released him, he looked to Kronos, who humbly smiled and nodded.

  “Yin-Kai, Kronos, thank the Great Mother you have escaped. How was this possible?”

  “It was Farouk,” Yin-Kai replied. “He is a powerful Druid now.”

  Imbra nodded proudly. “That is good,” he said.

  “He freed Kronos and helped to defeat the Jindala in the Northlands. Kronos then freed me.”

  Imbra approached Kronos, who still looked up at him and smiled. Imbra embraced him, patting him on the back with all six of his hands. “Thank you, brother,” he said. “I am happy to see you both.”

  “Come!” Yin-Kai said. “Absu awaits! I have the feeling we will see Sulemain again.”

  “He will return to Absu to heal,” Imbra said. “But when he is whole again, he may seek out my new Child, Hamal.”

  “If he is a child of yours,” Yin-Kai replied. “Then I have faith he will triumph.”

  “Indeed,” Imbra said. “Let us march forth and prepare the way for our children.”

  The Queen of Garret’s dreams sat on the small of his back as he lay prone on the extravagantly-dressed bed. She ran her hands across his tightly-muscled shoulders, massaging the day’s tightness away. It had been a rough day for her guardian, she knew, as he had spent the majority of it dealing with a local group of bandits that had been terrorizing merchants along the northern half of Eirenoch’s major trade road. Now, after a hard day’s work, she had offered to show her appreciation by rubbing away his stress.

  It was working.

  Garret knew that he was dreaming, but he could still feel her gentle touch, and the affection that almost seemed to pour out from her skilled hands. He resisted the urge to turn over and look into her eyes, as he knew it was her eyes that triggered the strange, heart-wrenching feelings.

  There was just something about her eyes.

  “How many men did you have to kill?” she asked softly.

  “Three,” he replied. “The rest surrendered and were arrested by the guards.”

  Siobhan sighed. “I hate to think that my own people would cause so much trouble,” she said. “But I suppose no matter how well I keep them fed, there will be some who want more.”

  “Don’t see it as a sign of your failure,” Garret assured her. “The greedy will always be greedy, no matter what.”

  “What was this group’s major interest?”

  “Weapons,” Garret replied. “Swords and daggers from a smith in the south kingdom.”

  “My weapons?” Siobhan asked. “Weapons for my guards?”

  “No. Just simple arms for the farmers. Nothing more.”

  Siobhan scooted back, making room for her hands to rub lower, above his belt.

  “Good,” she replied. “I’m glad they made it to their buyers. The farmers need good weapons.”

  Garret was silent, still tempted to turn over. The urge was powerful, but he knew as soon as he did, he would awaken. He did not want that. He wanted to lay here until the end of time, feeling the touch of this woman whom he loved more than anything.

  A love he could still not fathom.

  “He is coming, Garret,” Siobhan said.

  Garret scowled. What did she mean?

  “Who?” he asked, stiffening up.

  “Wake up, Garret.”

  “What?”

  He turned over quickly, seeing Siobhan fade away as his mind awoke. Before she disappeared, he distinctly saw a trail of blood that ran from her perfect lips, and a great sadness in her eyes. It was a great sadness that seemed like betrayal.

  “No!” he pleaded. “Come back…”

  Awaken, my son, the Great Mother’s voice echoed.

  Garret shot up in his bed, his breath shallow and quick.

  “What is it?” he shouted.

  There is someone here, outside my garden. I do not know who he is.

  “What?” Garret asked, rubbing his eyes and rising from his bed. “How can someone…”

  Then, he remembered Siobhan’s words. He is coming, Garret.

  He reached for his trousers, snatching them up and pulling them on as he hopped out the door to his armory. When he reached out to grasp the door handle, he gasped.

  His hands were stained with blood.

  He looked down at the areas where he had grasped his trousers. No blood. It was only on his hands. And now, as he held them before his eyes, the blood was gone.

  “What the hell?” he asked the silence.

  Hurry. He cannot enter the garden, but his presence frightens me.

  “Who?” Garret shouted, strapping on his leather jerkin and pulling on his boots. “Who is Siobhan?”

  No answer to that question… again.

  When Garret had fully dressed, he drew his saber and rushed out the front doo
r of his cottage. Beyond the garden lay the mist he remembered stumbling through when the Great Mother had first brought him here. Though he did not desire to traverse the strange realm again, he felt the need to eliminate whatever threat had entered his safe realm; his home.

  Swallowing hard, he plunged into the mist.

  The darkness came quickly, brought on by the presence of some unknown force. He felt the great power it exuded, and saw how it affected the realm. Jagged stone monoliths jutted from the cracked and barren ground. They were arranged in some macabre fashion, as if forming some kind of maze. They were of various shapes and sizes but had one thing in common; upon their surfaces were carved the faces of demons. There were horned creatures, faces that were oddly stretched as if in torment, and ghastly animalistic hybrids that gave Garret an unearthly chill.

  “Who are you?” he called out to the fog.

  There was no answer. Garret crept forward, his saber ready. He looked up at the sky, which was grey and rolling with dark clouds. The ground was the same; grey, cracked, and covered in the cold mist. It seemed like a bizarre Hell had drifted into his realm, and its carrier was hunting him.

  “Show yourself, demon!” he shouted again.

  Akharu, the Great Mother said.

  Akharu?

  Somehow the word seemed familiar. Garret had no idea what language it was from, but he somehow knew that it meant assassin.

  “Akharu!” he shouted.

  Suddenly, there was laughter. It was a quiet, malevolent laughter that stopped Garret in his tracks. It was, apparently, the intruder’s name.

  “Show yourself and let’s get on with it!”

  Garret stepped into the maze of jutting rocks, touching the surface of one of them as he passed. It was cold and damp, with a thin layer of some kind of slimy liquid. He rubbed his fingers together in disgust, peering farther into the grey cloak of mist.

  “Show yourself, assassin,” he said.

  As his eyes adjusted to the fog, a shape appeared in the distance. It was a tall and thin figure, cloaked in darkness and shadow. It bore a curved blade in either hand and stood menacingly in the mist, silhouetted in the pale light behind it.

  “There you are,” Garret said. “You are not welcome here. Whatever you—“

  Suddenly the figure flashed to the side, behind one of the jutting rocks. Garret stepped forward to give chase, but was blindsided by a sudden rush of wind. He thrust his saber in front of him, blocking a double slash of blade that threw him off balance.

  He stumbled back, shocked at the lightning speed of the assassin. He stood poised, expecting another attack. When none came, he spoke another challenge.

  “You’re very quick,” he said. “But you wield darkness. Darkness always gives way to the light.”

  The deep laughter sounded again, echoing through the stone forest as if worming its way through to his ears.

  “Such foolish words, mortal,” Akharu whispered. “That is what you are, is it not? Mortal?”

  “Whatever I may be,” Garret replied. “I do not fear you, demon.”

  Akharu laughed again. “I know who you are, and why you are here,” he said. “I can answer all of these questions for you, if you wish.”

  Garret spit on the ground in a gesture of defiance. “I want nothing from you but your head.”

  “My head will remain where it is. Yours, however, may or may not, depending on your next choice.”

  Garret scowled, not sure of Akharu’s meaning.

  “Follow me,” Akharu whispered. “Or I will kill the girl.”

  “What girl?” Garret asked.

  Akharu laughed again, more sinister this time.

  “The innkeeper’s daughter,” Akharu replied. “You know her. You rescued her from the Jindala scum before your untimely death.”

  Untimely death? What did he mean? Who had killed him? And who was the innkeeper’s daughter?

  “Kill her,” Garret said. “Why should I care? I don’t even know who she is.”

  “Come now, Scorpion,” Akharu said. “You would never allow an innocent woman to be murdered. Unless, of course, you did it yourself.”

  Garret swung his saber through the air in challenge. “Stop talking in riddles!” he shouted.

  Akharu was silent, letting his words sink in. Garret’s mind raced. His heart ached. His teeth were gritted in frustration. What was this creature doing to him. He was losing his composure, and he didn’t know why.

  “Where are you?” He shouted. “Where is the girl?”

  “That’s more like the real Scorpion,” Akharu chuckled. “The real Garret, assassin of the kingdom of Eirenoch. Bodyguard to the Queen. Failure. Murderer.”

  “Silence!” Garret hissed. “Show yourself to me and face my blade!”

  “Come then.”

  A portal opened before Garret. It was a swirling mass of jumbled light that led to a dark cavern. It was strewn with filth; clothing, furniture, and random objects that seemed to have been thrown around in frustration. Among the clutter, chained to the carved stone wall, was a young woman. She was dark-haired, buxom, and looked tough as steel.

  Without hesitation, Garret jumped through the portal, knowing Akharu would be waiting on the other side.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Eirenoch’s fleet was in line and sailing east at full speed. The ships were fully manned, armed to the teeth, and displayed full sails. Below, Jadhav’s undersea vessels complimented the warships, ready to sink the enemy by surprise.

  The king looked left and right down the line, seeing his friends standing defiantly at the head of each ship. Ulrich commanded the Drakkar that had sailed down from the north; Hamal took the head of a captured Jindala ship; Lords Ferrin and Galen commanded their own vessels; and, finally, the remaining ships were captained by various sea merchants who had experience in warfare.

  It looked to Eamon to be an unstoppable force.

  As he gazed up and to the east, he saw the line of seven dragons approaching. Erenoth swooped down close to his ship, and the king gave him a wave to signal he had been spotted. Erenoth landed on the deck, transforming into human form.

  “Greetings, my lord,” he said.

  “How went the hunt?” Eamon asked.

  “Three Jindala ships loaded with reinforcements were destroyed,” Erenoth replied. “The largest of them a gunship.”

  Eamon grinned, knowing Erenoth’s love for making things explode. “No doubt loaded with black powder, I’m guessing.”

  Erenoth smiled. “A lot of it.”

  “Good. How far is the main line of ships?”

  “They are a day’s travel from here,” Erenoth said. “They are in a perfect line from north to south.”

  Eamon sighed. “How many?”

  “Twelve,” Erenoth replied. “Mostly light vessels, but one of them is heavily armored. I do not think the Jindala were expecting a fully armed fleet to attempt to break through. They were likely expecting nothing but transports.”

  Eamon nodded. “Let’s keep it that way,” he said. “Keep watch, and let me know if anything changes.”

  Erenoth bowed low, then transformed and shot up into the sky. Angen sidled up to Eamon, watching Erenoth fade into the clouds.

  “Do you think we will need their help?” he asked.

  “Perhaps,” Eamon said. “I do not want to put them in danger during the attack, though. They could keep watch for reinforcements as they have been, but if they join the battle directly, they may put our own ships in danger.”

  “Right,” Angen agreed. “I would prefer not to be on fire when I fight.”

  “Eamon!” sounded Wrothgaar’s voice from behind him. “Look off to the south!”

  The king turned southward, seeing a group of whales off in the distance. He moved to the railing to get a better view. There were three of the creatures altogether; two juveniles and their mother. The mother seemed unusually large, although Eamon had never seen one up close.

  “Are they supposed to be that b
ig?” Eamon asked Angen, who had sailing experience.

  “Not usually,” he replied. “And that type is not usually found here. The waters are much too shallow for a pod of whales that size.”

  “What kind of whales are they?”

  Angen shook his head. “I’m not exactly sure,” he said, tapping his head. “They are similar to the ones I’ve seen farther south in deeper waters, but they look slightly different.”

  Suddenly, a vessel surfaced near them, throwing ocean spray all around. Eamon winced as the mist hit his face. When the vessel became stable, its hatch opened and Jadhav appeared, smiling.

  “Do you see them, my friend?” the Raja shouted.

  “I do!” Eamon replied. “What are they?”

  “They are the servants of Leviathan!” Jadhav yelled. “A female and her offspring!”

  “Are they here to help?”

  “Possibly. We’ll see. They are definitely tailing us, though.”

  “Can you get closer to them without frightening them?” Eamon asked.

  Jadhav laughed. “There isn’t much in the sea that would frighten them. I am sure I could get close enough.”

  The Raja disappeared into his vessel, shutting the portal behind him. Eamon watched as the ship slipped beneath the waves, leaving a mass of roiling bubbles on the surface.

  “He’s an odd fellow,” Angen remarked.

  “That’s the sign of a good king,” Eamon said. “If the memories of my grandfather are any indication.”

  Angen chuckled. “Yes, he was an odd fellow, too. Great king though, if my memory serves me correctly.”

  Wrothgaar joined them on the railing, staring out over the sea. He was intrigued by the whales, though he had seen many in his life. These were different, he knew, and their presence was the sign of something great.

  “Where there is a mother and her calves,” he said. “There will be others. Whales travel in pods.”

  Eamon nodded. “Jadhav says these are servants of Leviathan, the Firstborn of the sea.”

  Wrothgaar raised his brow, smiling. “I hope we get to see the great Firstborn,” he said.

  “Not likely,” Angen said. “These waters are too shallow. Judging from the size of those whales, Leviathan himself would be huge. Gargantuan.”