Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5) (12 page)

“Mother,” he struggled to whisper. “I am coming.”

Siobhan smiled warmly, but her eyes were saddened. Tears welled up in them as Eamon’s vision faded.

“I love you, Eamon,” she said.

Then, all was black.

Eamon shot up in his bed, screaming. He clutched his heart, drawing in deep breaths as it pounded painfully. As he opened his eyes, the familiar sight of his makeshift bedchamber relieved his fear. All was quiet. There were no enemies. There was no storm.

Dream
, he thought.

“Are you alright?” a pleasant voice asked from the shadows.

He shuddered, looking around to find the source. Allora moved out of the shadows, approaching his bed, her face saddened and concerned.

Eamon closed his eyes, allowing his head to stop spinning and his heart to slow. He nodded, catching his breath. “I’m alright,” he said.

He felt Allora sit on the edge of the bed. Her hand stroked his hair, and her warmth comforted him as he sensed it growing around him. He leaned toward her, resting his head on her bosom. She cradled him lovingly, leaning her face against his head.

“Your dreams are haunting,” she said. “As they have been since your mother was killed.”

He nodded silently.

“She was your world,” Allora continued. “And her death has clouded your mind.”

“I must not be distracted,” Eamon said. “I must focus. But it is difficult.”

“Be still, Eamon,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “You are burdened with too many things.”

Eamon sighed, opening his eyes and looking up at her. She was beautiful, he thought. So beautiful. Her eyes, like Siobhan’s, were deep green. Her hair was crimson, as well. The warmth that came from her presence was that of the queen, too. Eamon’s heart pounded as he stared into her eyes. It was a feeling he had never experienced.

“I am here for you,” she whispered. “For whatever you need.”

Eamon closed his eyes again, his mind settling as the horror of the dream faded.

Soon, he was asleep once more.

The morning sun brought the familiar desert heat back; a stark contrast to the frigid temperatures that plagued the soldiers the night before. Eamon squinted as he made his way to the top of the wall on the east side of the fortress. There, the kings had gathered with their soldiers to witness the coming of the Alvar. Thousands of men took positions along the walls, on the rooftops, and in the open sand outside the fortress to watch the spectacle.

Mekembe nodded to Eamon as he stopped next to him. Eamon returned the gesture, his heart still aching from the night before. He briefly looked around to find Allora, who stood below, next to Faeraon, a short distance from the wall. In the distance, Traegus shuffled his way through the sand, moving to a safe distance at which to open the portal.

All eyes were upon the wizard as he prepared his spell.

“He seems to be a little awkward in his step,” Mekembe remarked as he saw the wizard stumble in the sand.

“He’s not used to sand, I suppose,” Eamon replied.

Hamal chuckled. “It’s very hard to get used to unless you’ve spent your life in it,” he said.

“I would like to see him traverse snow,” Cannuck said, grinning. “Farouk did it fairly well, as I recall.”

“I hate sand,” Jadhav added. “I miss the jungles of my land.”

“As do I,” Mekembe said. “There is nothing like the smell of the jungle after a good rain.”

“Watch,” Ulrich said. “Something is happening.”

Traegus paused when he reached a wide, flat area of the sand. Here, the dunes were mostly level, creating a good surface for the Alvar to arrive. It would also be a good place to transport the entire army forward when the time was right.

Still facing away from the fortress, he raised his hands into the air, his staff gripped tightly in his left hand. After chanting his spell, he lowered his staff, making an imaginary line in the sand before him. The sand puffed upward as if a long pole had been dropped on it. Traegus smiled.

Then, planting his staff in the sand, he raised his palms upward, beckoning the rift to open upward. A bright light appeared along the line, growing larger as the portal increased in height. He could hear the gasps of surprise and awe among the soldiers behind him.

“Come now,” he said. “Join us, my friends.”

The portal opened fully, shooting out rays of light and a fog of mist from Eirenoch. He could see the forest and the blue sky of his homeland, and the massive army of Alvar warriors waiting patiently in formation. He smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.

“Welcome!” he said.

Eamon watched in awe as the army of Alvar stepped through the portal. Below, Faeraon went forward to greet them, followed by Allora and Farouk. The Alvar were divine in appearance; tall, golden-haired, and armored with gleaming plates of magical steel and blue silk. They carried long spears, curved swords, and formidable bows.

“I have never seen anything like them,” Mekembe said. “They are like the spirits of the forest.”

Eamon nodded. “They will surely strike fear into the hearts of the Jindala.”

“And the Lifegiver himself,” Cannuck added. “They are just as noble as the stories of the north have said. I am truly in awe.”

“They don’t look so tough,” Ulrich joked. “I could take them.”

Eamon chuckled. “I do not doubt that, Ulrich,” he said, playing along. “Come, let us go meet them.”

“Welcome to Khem!” Traegus said, as the two thousand Alvar stood before him. “As you can plainly tell, it is quite hot here. But fear not, Farouk and I will ensure that your journey is pleasant, or at least, bearable.”

Faeraon stepped up behind Traegus and the Alvar came to attention. Their king stood before them, looking them over and nodding his approval. “My people,” he said. “This battle is our battle. When the darkness took our world, we swore vengeance. When you faded into shadow one by one, I swore that I would see you return. Together, with our allies on this world, we shall have both. We will see the end of this darkness forever, and the rebirth of our world. The Grand Druid and his friend Traegus have promised us a new Mother spirit; one that has resided in this world since the beginning. To show them our thanks, we will fight and die beside them.”

The Alvar silently raised their weapons to their hearts, pledging their allegiance. Traegus and Farouk smiled, knowing that the warriors who now stood before them would be the greatest asset they had in this battle.

The Jindala did not stand a chance against such hardened and seasoned warriors.

As Eamon and the other kings approached, Faeraon turned, motioning to them.

“The man in black is King Eamon,” he said. “He has offered us a temporary home in his lands. We will honor his people, and protect them as well as we can. For now, we march upon the city of Khem, where the darkness resides. This time, we will prevail!”

He thrust his sword into the air, and the Alvar did the same. Their collective shouts boomed like thunder, and prompted the remaining allies to join in the shouting.

Faeraon then turned to Eamon, taking his hand. “My warriors are yours to command,” he said. “And I am with you, brother.”

Eamon smiled, closing his eyes as the feeling of hope came over him. Though his dream foretold doom, he knew in his heart that it was only fear; not reality.

“Eamon,” Farouk said. “Allora and I must depart for a few days. It is time to defend Tel Drakkar, and to release Theia’s spirit into Alvheim.”

“I understand, Farouk,” he said. “Good luck to you both.”

He looked into Allora’s eyes, seeing their beauty and kindness. The feeling of hope became stronger as she smiled encouragingly, and he suddenly felt something else he had never felt before; even stranger than the earlier feeling she gave him when she had appeared after his dream. He thought perhaps it was her similarity to his mother, but it was different somehow. He could not place it.

“Do you still have the gem that Jodocus gave you?” Farouk asked.

Eamon nodded, reaching into his tunic to retrieve it. The druid had given him the soul gem when he and Wrothgaar had met him the first time. He had completely forgotten about it, yet there it was; hidden and forgotten until now. He produced it, holding it in his palm.

“I will give it some of Theia’s power,” Farouk said. “Use it sparingly. It will be useful for keeping your troops alive and well during their journey. And when you reach the Great Pyramid, use it to release the spell the Powers have given you.”

“You will return before then, will you not?”

Farouk nodded. “I may, but just in case the Dragon reaches the Great Mother before then, I will give you the power now.”

He lifted his staff, touching its gem to Eamon’s soul gem. There was a spark as the two made contact, and as Farouk drew the staff away, a tendril of orange energy stretched between them. It coiled and passed from Farouk to Eamon’s gem quickly. Eamon felt the awesome power of the Mother spirit enter, and it filled him with a sense of warmth and undying love.

The love only a mother could give.

Finally, the transfer was complete. Farouk set down his staff.

“Remember, Eamon,” he said. “Do not try to decipher the meaning of the spell. Simply let it free. See the Lifegiver as a solid, physical being, and it will be so. See what you wish, not what you expect.”

Eamon nodded, not fully understanding. He gripped the soul gem in his fist, tucking it back into his tunic.

“Thank you, my friend,” he said. “I will see you in Khem, perhaps.”

Farouk turned to Azim, waving goodbye. He then grasped Allora’s arm. She turned to Eamon, smiling again. “Goodbye, Eamon,” she said. “I will see you in Eirenoch.”

The two of them turned away and walked into nothingness, leaving the allied armies behind.

“Are we ready, then?” Traegus asked as he approached.

“We will wait until the morning,” Eamon said. “The Dragon is not ready. I can feel it.”

Traegus nodded. “Alright,” he said. “That will give our new friends time to get to know the men.”

“Traegus,” Eamon said. “Can I ask one thing of you?”

Traegus nodded. “Of course.”

“I think we are going to need Titus,” Eamon said. “I need to know the location of the army of Kinar, and whether they are joining us, or meeting us at Khem. The Priests of Drakkar will be needed on Eirenoch.”

“Very well,” Traegus said. “I will call for him and send him east.”

“He should fly low,” Eamon said. “It looks like a storm is coming.”

Indeed, as the allies looked to the sky, it was quite obvious that clouds were gathering. They roiled and churned fiercely, obscuring the desert sun. The storm would reach them soon; possibly by morning, if not before.

“This is quite unusual for the desert,” Hamal said. “It does not bode well.”

“Agreed,” Eamon said. “Back to the fortress, then. Faeraon, gather your warriors. We should take shelter before the storm arrives.”

As the leaders dispersed to gather their men, Eamon stared off into the east. A dark wave seemed to be growing on the horizon that was spreading westward. It was not the storm, however; it was something worse. The Lifegiver was aware of their approach, Eamon knew, and he was preparing for their arrival. The darkness would spread, just as it did in Eamon’s dream. The rains would stop a sand storm. The darkness, though, would continue to spread.

The Onyx Dragon sighed. The time was nearly upon them all, and the outcome was unknown. Whether they defeated the Lifegiver or were destroyed, Eamon knew that they would all fight or die for their freedom, and that of all of the good people of Earth.

And that was the noblest motivation of all.

Chapter Thirteen

Startled birds burst into flight when Torak arrived at the mines. He was startled himself, and waved his arms in a panic as he was swarmed. When the chaos had cleared, he laughed to himself; glad that no one was there to see his reaction. It was then that he felt the awesome power that radiated from the mines below. There, beneath tons of dirt and rock, were the remains of an ancient meteor that had crashed to Earth many thousands, perhaps millions, of years ago.

He wondered if anyone else had sensed the same power since the founding of the mines. Obviously, there had been someone in the past who had known what was buried there. Otherwise, the mine would never have been built.

Torak put that thought aside as he scanned the area. As the Keeper had described, the mines were surrounded by the remains of the original impact crater, circular in formation, and jagged with many years of erosion. Only the larger segments of the wall remained, sloping downward on the outside to the rocky valley below. The crater itself was relatively flat, having been scraped and shaped by human hands—or possibly divine hands.

Whatever the case, the scene was troubling. Scattered around the mines were the remains of many Jindala warriors. Some of them had been scorched, others dismembered with weapons. From what he could divine, Khalid had been here previously. It was likely he and another priest that had killed them. But what happened to the mine workers?

Torak shrugged. “This is no good,” he said out loud.

Conjuring a wind spell, he swept away the remains with a wave of his staff. They crumbled and blew away with the breeze, disappearing into the sky.

“Much better,” he said.

Now, his task was to create a tower for himself. Here, in the hidden confines of the mine, he could study in peace. But what kind of tower would he create? He contemplated for several minutes, tapping his bearded chin in thought. He could build a minaret, he thought; something similar to those in Khem. Perhaps a dark, spiked, monolithic… No, that would not do.

“Hmmm,” he grunted.

“Hello, friend,” a kind voice said.

Torak turned around, seeing Jodocus standing there; his smile wide and friendly.

“How did you recognize me?” Torak asked.

Jodocus laughed his boyish laugh. “It was easy,” he replied. “I do not trust my vision, only my heart. My heart told me it was you.”