The Ascent (Book 2) Read online

  “How did you each know about the other’s doubts?” Brynn asked.

  “It was a younger soldier named Malik,” Azim explained. “It was he who had the courage to speak of it to Farouk and I. We were both afraid to voice our feelings to anyone for fear of execution, even each other.”

  “Malik was very brave, then.”

  “Yes he was,” Azim agreed. “I mourn his death at the hands of the Defiler, much the same way you mourn the death of Fergis.”

  “The bravest are always the ones who are robbed of greatness,” Brynn said, sadly.

  “Fergis will be remembered for his bravery, and his sacrifice to save the people of Taryn,” Azim reminded him. “He died with honor and in a manner befitting of a warrior. He died in battle. He will be remembered for that.”

  “He was the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had,” Brynn lamented.

  “You didn’t know your father?” Azim asked.

  “Not well,” Brynn replied. “The only thing I ever got from him is my sword. It was a great gift, but I would rather have had a father.”

  Azim put his hand on Brynn’s shoulder. “If Fergis meant as much to you as you say, then he is your true father. Remember him as such.”

  Brynn nodded, smiling. “I always will,” he said. “Thank you, Azim. You’re a very wise man.”

  “Not really,” Azim said, laughing. “Farouk is the wise one. I’m the warrior.”

  Brynn returned to his place in the line of archers. Azim watched him go, realizing how much he liked Brynn, and felt a kinship with him and the other knights like no other he had ever experienced. He was proud to call them his brothers, and would gladly fight with them until the end.

  Further down the line, Daryth stood among his own men, keeping watch over the southern arm of the bay. He fully expected the Jindala ships to be cloaked in some type of magic, with only the faint green mist that Erenoth had described signaling their approach. So far, no one had seen anything, and the young knight began to wonder if the ships were even coming.

  As he continued to scan the distant waters, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He turned westward, where the sky was clearer. Among the clouds, a tiny black dot appeared, moving in a random pattern. The object was diving, rising again, and swaying from side to side.

  “What is that?” a soldier asked.

  Daryth squinted into the distance, trying to make out the objects shape. “I can’t tell,” he said. “It’s too far away.”

  “Could be the dragon we saw last night,” another soldier said.

  “I hope so,” Daryth said. “We could use his help.”

  Eamon saw the object in the distance as well. He could not make out its shape, but noted its erratic flight. Whatever it was, it was coming toward them, and seemed to be alive. In his heart, he hoped it was the dragon that attacked the Jindala ship the night before. Such an ally was always valuable, especially considering the uneven odds of the combatants.

  “What is it?” Wrothgaar asked, approaching from behind.

  “It may be the dragon,” Eamon replied. “If so, this may be our chance to find out more about it.”

  “It’s the dragon,” said a voice from behind them. The two men turned, seeing Jodocus sitting on the edge of a walkway, his feet dangling far above the swampy surface below.

  “Jodocus!” the two men said in unison.

  “Hello, my friends,” the Druid greeted them. “I see you have prepared the men here for battle.”

  Eamon looked out over the green troops, nodding. “They’re frightened,” he said. “But they have no choice but to defend themselves.”

  “They’re lucky they have you to lead them,” Jodocus said.

  “Do you have any knowledge of this dragon?” Eamon asked.

  Jodocus shook his head. “No,” he said. “But we’ll find out soon won’t we? But, that’s not why I came. You want to know the nature of the new creatures that are in route to the island, yes?”

  Eamon nodded. “We overheard a conversation between Jindala soldiers. Azim says these creatures are from our legends.”

  “Yes,” Jodocus said. “The Lifegiver is using the fears of the people to break their will. When these creatures arrive, they will strike terror into the hearts of all who behold them. Maybe even more so than the Enkhatar.”

  “What are they?” Wrothgaar asked.

  Jodocus hopped down onto the walkway beside the two men, landing with a groan. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “That was a bad idea.”

  Angen joined them, nodding to Jodocus as he walked up. “Hello Jodocus,” he said.

  Jodocus smiled, patting Angen on the shoulder. “The Lifegiver has the power to steal souls,” he explained. “He has performed this ghastly deed to feed on the legends of Eirenoch. Wights, they are called; soulless monsters whose only motivation is to spread the agony that they suffer. Their existence is one of pain and anguish. They feel nothing else, and it fuels their wrath.”

  “They can make others like them,” Angen added. “Anyone who dies at the hands of a wight becomes one as well.”

  “Correct,” Jodocus said.

  “How can we fight such a creature?” Eamon asked.

  “Only a priest can destroy them,” Jodocus replied. “Erenoth has the power, and soon, Khalid will as well.”

  “What of the priests of Drakkar?” Eamon asked.

  “They have the power to dispel them,” Jodocus said. “And when Khalid creates his own priests, they will wield that power too. But only the high priests can fully destroy them. Let them worry about the wights. Your focus will be the Enkhatar. They will pursue the Knights, especially Azim. He wields the sword of Sulemain.”

  Eamon furrowed his brow. “Why do they seek the sword?” he asked.

  “They are the Keynakin,” Jodocus said. “Or they used to be. They will seek the weapon of their leader, as it is the most valuable to them. It is only by bringing the sword to the tomb of Sulemain can The Lifegiver enslave him as well.”

  “That must not happen,” Eamon said. “Such a disgrace would destroy any hope the people of Khem might have. Seeing their true prophet enslaved would spell the end for them.”

  “True,” Jodocus said. “Sulemain must be left to rest in peace.”

  “Where is Farouk?” Angen asked, suddenly realizing Jodocus’ apprentice was not with him.

  “Farouk serves the Great Mother now,” the Druid explained. “She has asked him to perform an important task. It is one that will elevate him above all other Druids in the world.”

  “What task is this?” Eamon inquired.

  “You must not know,” Jodocus replied. “For knowing his task may endanger him. But when he returns, he will surely share his tale. All I can tell you is that it will be a dangerous task, but the outcome may aid us in this struggle against the darkness.”

  “That doesn’t tell us much,” Wrothgaar remarked.

  “No,” Jodocus agreed, smiling. “No, it doesn’t. I must return to him to see him off. But first, I came to see you, Angen.”

  Angen looked to the others in question, then back to the Druid. “Why?”

  “In the near future, you will face the Enkhatar,” Jodocus began. “They wear armor of dark energy that is immune to mundane weapons. To fight them, you will need a more powerful weapon.”

  Angen pulled his claymore from its scabbard, holding it protectively in both hands. “I have carried this sword since I was a young man,” he protested. “It has served me well.”

  “Of course, my boy. Of course it has. Let me have it.”

  Reluctantly, Angen handed Jodocus his sword, hilt first. The Druid grasped the pommel, pulling the sword from Angen’s hand. The point fell to the ground, causing Jodocus to chuckle.

  “It’s very heavy,” Jodocus said, smiling.

  “Yes it is,” Angen said. “My strength lies in my arm, not my grace.”

  “It’s true,” Wrothgaar said jokingly, prompting a back handed smack in the gut from Angen.
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br />   With another chuckle, Jodocus hefted the weapon and went to a nearby boulder embedded in the cliff wall that surrounded the town. He rested the point of Angen’s sword against it and mouthed a silent chant. He then closed his eyes and jammed the sword into the stone.

  “Great Mother!” Angen exclaimed, wide-eyed.

  Jodocus opened his eyes, chanting more magical words and focusing his power to draw energy from the stone. “The stone is very powerful,” he said. “And it is happy to share its energy.”

  The knights looked at one another in turn, expressionless, as if in slight disbelief.

  “Ah, yes,” Jodocus continued. “The stone is sympathetic to the Great Mother’s plight. It is giving the sword a great amount of its power. Can you see it?”

  The knights looked at Angen’s sword as Jodocus held it. The pommel glowed with a silver light; the power of Earth. Angen reached out to touch it, feeling it vibrate with the flow of energy. Jodocus stepped back, making room for Angen.

  “Grasp it like you would in battle,” Jodocus instructed him, “and thank the stone for its gift.”

  Angen grabbed the pommel with a sure hand, feeling the strength of the stone pass into him through the blade. The energy felt powerful and rejuvenating, as if he, himself, was becoming an unbreakable statue as it flowed through him. Silently he thanked the stone for its gift and looked to Jodocus.

  “Now,” Jodocus continued. “Pull the sword from the stone.”

  With a grunt, the mighty Angen pulled his claymore from the stone. Metal ground against rock, and sparks flew as he withdrew it. When it was free, he raised it upright, gasping in awe at its refined appearance. The blade shone like silver, fully polished and carved with strange symbols of the Earth itself. The blade flashed and seemed to glow with a life of its own. Angen smiled, happy to receive this great gift from the Earth.

  “It’s beautiful,” he exclaimed, “and even more well-balanced than before.”

  Jodocus laughed, knowing that the warrior would cherish the sword until his end. “The blade is unbreakable,” he said. “And it will cut through anything, even the armor of the Enkhatar.”

  “I thank you, my friend,” Angen said.

  “No need to thank me,” Jodocus said. “It was the stone who gave you this gift.”

  “I will bear it with pride.”

  “I know you will,” Jodocus replied. He then looked to the sky and a smile spread across his face. “Oh look, our dragon friend arrives.”

  The knights turned to look, seeing the dragon sail toward them slowly. They could see that the creature was not black as Erenoth and the Priests of Drakkar, but metallic gray with a slight shine. The wing membranes appeared as black leather stretched between its fingers, and its eyes glowed green like emeralds.

  As the dragon neared, it slowed and began to hover over Eamon. In its claws was a scroll case, black and trimmed in gold. The dragon opened its claws, dropping the case. The Prince caught it, looking to Jodocus for an explanation.

  “Open it,” the Druid said, smiling.

  Curious, Eamon opened the scroll case, watching the dragon as it landed. Obviously, the dragon was some sort of machine. It was clearly made of metal, and driven by some unknown force. There was the sound of metal clanking against metal as it settled into a resting position, patiently waiting for Eamon to read his message.

  Eamon unrolled the scroll that slid out, tilting it so Jodocus could see the script on the page. Jodocus smiled once again. “Ah,” he said. “The script looks familiar. I think I know who sent our friend here. Read it to us, my friend.”

  Eamon cleared his throat and read the letter out loud:

  My dearest Prince Eamon,

  Greetings, my friend. It has been many, many years since I set foot on Eirenoch, but I can tell you that I was born in Bray over a thousand years ago. I am, and have always been a strong believer in protecting my lands and my people. However, my appearance has degraded over the centuries and my presence would only serve to frighten and confuse anyone who should behold me. Please forgive my absence.

  I can assure you that I fully support your efforts to drive away this foreign menace, and will do what I can to aid you and your knights. For this reason, I have sent my dragon. He is what one would call a golem. He is an animated construct, composed of a metal which I have personally researched and made good use of. It is a crystalline metal that is stronger than steel, yet as light as wood. The dragon’s name is Titus. Please address him as such. I have instructed him to obey your commands. Please feel free to use him as you see fit. I am aware that your friend, Erenoth, is not available to you at the moment, so I sent Titus to take his place.

  He can act as your scout as Erenoth did. He can also be used for aerial attacks and is a valuable asset on the battlefield as well. He doesn’t require food, obviously, but be sure to keep him well-oiled and supply him with a good dose of sunlight daily to keep him energized.

  If you need further assistance of any kind, please be aware that I currently reside on a large island to the West of Eirenoch. It may not be accessible by ship, but I have created a portal that will transport you here instantly. It lies at Southwatch near the North/South border. Please do come see me as I have items and spells that may be of assistance in this battle. And please tell Jodocus that he was right about the fig trees. He will know what I mean. I look forward to meeting you and your knights.

  Your friend always,

  Traegus, Archlich of Eirenoch

  “Traegus?” Eamon exclaimed. “The Lich?”

  “I knew I recognized his script,” Jodocus said. “I am glad to hear he is still among the…well, living, I suppose.”

  “Who is Traegus?” Angen asked.

  “He was a wizard once,” Jodocus said. “One of the most powerful in Eirenoch. When the end of his natural life came near, he used his magic to extend his life…well, unlife. He is now a lich, a wizard so dedicated to his craft that he refused to succumb to the natural order of things and die like he is supposed to. He is a good friend, though, and his counsel would be beneficial in this battle. I would suggest going to see him as soon as you are able.”

  Eamon nodded. “We will do so,” he said. “But first, Bray must be secured.”

  “What about the fig trees?” Wrothgaar asked.

  Jodocus laughed. “Just an inside joke,” he replied. “He can explain it better than I. For now, I feel that I should inform Azim that his brother is doing well, and not to worry.”

  “Very well, my friend,” Eamon said, affectionately patting the Druid’s shoulder. “It was good to see you again.”

  “Goodbye, Knights of the Dragon.”

  Jodocus faded from sight, leaving the knights to return to their positions. Wrothgaar, frustrated, mumbled, “I still want to know about the fig trees.”

  Eamon laughed as the Northman walked away. He turned to Titus, who stood awaiting orders. Eamon was fascinated with the dragon’s construction; segmented limbs, jointed wings and a fully articulate head. What a wonderful creation. Traegus was truly a master engineer.

  “Titus,” Eamon addressed the machine. “Scout to the Southwest. Keep a lookout for the Jindala ships, and return to me when you spot them. Do not attack.”

  The dragon bowed its head, leaping into the air and flapping off across the town. Titus soared higher into the sky and headed out to sea along the shore. Eamon watched in awe, wondering how a metallic object that large could keep aloft. Surely it was a uniquely light metal, one that would be useful to an armorer. He would ask Traegus of that possibility when he could.

  Azim and the rest of the knights watched the dragon swoop by on its way to scout for the ships. They all knew now that the creature was on their side, but none yet knew its nature. They were all pleasantly surprised when Jodocus appeared near Azim, bearing his usual wide-faced grin. Brynn and Daryth both waved as he looked in their direction, and he returned their greetings.

  “Hello, Jodocus,” Azim said.

  “Ah, Azim, it i
s good to see you again.”

  “Where is Farouk?” Azim asked.

  “That’s why I am here,” Jodocus replied. “Farouk is preparing for a quest. It is one that will mean the difference between victory and defeat.”

  “I do not understand,” Azim said, cocking his head.

  “I cannot go into detail at the moment. Once he is underway, I can reveal more information. What I can say is that Farouk now serves the Great Mother herself. He has graduated beyond service to the Firstborn. One day, if he is successful, he may become the Grand Druid.”

  “That is good news,” Azim replied, smiling.

  “Well, yes,” Jodocus agreed. “But the journey he has undertaken will be dangerous and difficult, especially considering his lessened ability to fight. His future depends on whether he can complete his task.”

  “I have faith my brother can overcome any obstacle that lies before him,” Azim assured the Druid. “He has our father’s resolve and determination.”

  “Oh, I do not doubt that,” Jodocus said. “And his abilities as a Druid are impressive enough to attract the attention of the most powerful force in this world. He’s a natural. It makes me wonder where he got that.”

  Azim laughed, thinking of how true Jodocus’ statement was. Farouk had always been attuned to the natural world, even as a child. “He gets that from our mother,” he said.

  “She must have been a wonderful woman,” Jodocus remarked.

  “She was. Our father loved her very much, as did we.”

  “I will bring Farouk to see you before he leaves,” Jodocus said. “He is apprehensive about his journey. Perhaps a chat with his brother will improve his morale.”

  Azim nodded. “I would appreciate it, Jodocus,” he said, taking the Druid’s hand in friendship. “I will do what I can.”

  “Good, good. Now, I must go help him prepare for his journey. Good luck in the upcoming battle. As before, I cannot interfere, but I can encourage you to fight hard.”

  “Goodbye, my friend,” Azim said.

  With a smile and a parting wave to Brynn and Daryth, Jodocus faded. Azim turned his attention back to the sea. Thoughts of Farouk swirled around in his mind, bringing a smile to his face. He felt intense pride in his older brother, and silently prayed to Imbra to grant his older brother his divine blessing. With Farouk’s dedication and love of nature, he would no doubt put his entire soul into whatever task the Great Mother had asked of him. Farouk would not fail. Azim knew it in his heart.